Redemption: The Beginning
by Darkest Nightmare's Dread
Summary: Mostly Skyrim, with some Pokemon at the beginning. Make no mistake, though. This is a Skyrim story, and its theme is redemption. Who is being redeemed, and how? Gonna have to read to find out. Rated M for graphic violence. This story will be lemon free, but there might be a lime or two.
1. Chapter 1: The Time Has Come

**Welcome back, everyone. It's me, Darkest Nightmare's Dread. I have traveled far, seen many strange and wondrous things, including Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. That's right. The description may say Pokémon/Skyrim crossover, but this story is, for the most part, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. There WILL be graphic violence like in the actual Skyrim, so if that's not your thing, I understand, but please do not read this fanfic. Also, no spamming or flaming. You will be blocked. Got it? Good.**

 **In this fanfic, Rayquaza was not always a Pokémon. He was once something much, MUCH more terrifying.**

 **Now, it is time for the start of Redemption…**

 _A bloodthirsty conqueror, a soulless weapon. He was known by many titles: Al-Drun-Dinok [Destroyer-Bringer-Death], Right Wing of Alduin, Wielder of the Dread Thu'um, Faal-Dov [Snow-Dragon], Molag's Nightmare. All these titles were meaningless once the wearer was exiled. Not just to any place. No. He was imprisoned in the forme of that which he once revered, unable to return to his homeland. As the ages went by, he came to realize that all his work … had been for naught. He came to revile that which he had once worshiped. For a long time, he prayed for a chance to make things right again, but there was no reply. Despondent, he began to believe that redemption was a concept only humans could embrace, but as he was soon to find out, he was wrong. This is the story of a former Dragon Priest, his quest to right all his wrongs, and attain that which his former power had denied him. This is a story of … Redemption._

 **-Chapter 1: The Time Has Come-**

 _(Too long,)_ he thought. _(Too long it has been since I … was not unlike those humans down there.)_ The ancient green Dragon-type looked down from his perch atop Sky Pillar in the vast Hoenn ocean. Since the time he'd been exiled to this strange land innumerable centuries ago, humanity never ceased to amaze him. They had gone from huts of mud to stone, and now to buildings of metal and glass that seemed to touch the sky itself. _(With the spread of their species, the humans had brought with them many things,)_ the old dragon Rayquaza thought, _(among them death, destruction, disease, and the greater courage to stand and fight against these ever-living specters I knew all too well.)_ All in all, they were not too different from the people he had left behind when he went into exile. Suddenly, he sensed a presence off to his right, interrupting his ruminations. _"Who dares to interrupt my ruminations?"_ He growled.

" _The time has come,"_ a human voice said. Rayquaza looked down, and barely four metres away from his coiled body was a man dressed in a brown-and-white robe. He looked young, but Rayquaza knew that this was no mere youth, and no human, either. _"The time has come,"_ the figure repeated in a firmer voice.

" _Time for what?"_ Rayquaza asked. _"What do you mean, Akatosh?"_

" _The Aedra have come to a decision,"_ Akatosh began.

Rayquaza was immediately interested. _"What is it, and what does it have to do with me?"_ He asked.

" _Your time of exile is at an end,"_ Akatosh replied, _"and it has been decided that it is time that your request be granted. Yes, Holondil. It is time that you regained your true forme again."_

" _As the humans say, is there a catch?"_ Rayquaza asked cautiously. He knew that the atrocities he had committed could not have been forgotten by the Aedra, otherwise known as the Divines.

" _Your former power will not be granted you,"_ Akatosh said, confirming Rayquaza/Holondil's suspicions. _"You will not be completely powerless, however. Your ability to grow stronger faster will still be granted to you, as will your mind abilities. They are yours by the right of the blood of your father's people. I must warn you. You will be plunged into a strange world. Tamriel has changed much in your absence. Many things will be very, very different."_

" _If I am granted the opportunity to atone for my former crimes, so be it. I would fight my former master if that were the only way,"_ Holondil promised, resolute. Suddenly, he realized that Akatosh was now looking him in the eye. "What … what did you do to me?" He asked, surprised. He looked at his hands and gasped. They were no longer green hands with three claws on each one, but pale, almost pure white hands with five slender fingers on each of them. He had legs again, with toes.

" _You have been granted your old forme again, Holondil,"_ Akatosh replied. _"What you do now is your own decision."_ A grave look came over the head Aedra's face as he added, _"If you revert to your old self, if you repeat your history, there will be no second chance. No exile. You will be slain completely and irrevocably, or worse. There will be no barren moon, no cloistered haven, no crevice where we cannot find you. You think you know pain? You will long for something as sweet as pain."_

"I understand, Lord Akatosh," Holondil replied as he lowered his head in respect. "How will I get back to Tamriel, though?"

" _This way,"_ Akatosh replied, grabbing Holondil by the collar of his roughspun tunic and bodily throwing him through a portal that abruptly opened in the sky.

Holondil pitched forward through the ethereal space, not knowing what to expect. He had seen many wonders as Rayquaza, but to this interdimensional space was completely foreign to him. He didn't have much time for observation, though. It seemed as if he had only been in the space for a few seconds before the view of deep purple space speckled with white and yellow stars was shattered by the dark green of strong pine and spruce trees that rose to meet him. Holondil smashed into a tall pine head on and hit the ground hard. "What in Oblivion?" He heard a voice ask. Holondil pulled himself to his feet and looked in the direction the voice had come from. He saw a small group of men, 5 in total, standing before him. One was holding a woodcutter's axe, which meant that they had been in the forest to harvest wood for a campfire or for making arrows. They were dressed in armor that looked like it was made out of a combination of fur and leather. "Who in Oblivion are you, Elf?!" The speaker, presumably the head of the group, shouted. His helmet appeared to have horns on the front, which puzzled Holondil. The four soldiers standing behind him drew their swords.

"Put away your swords," Holondil said cautiously, raising his hands, hoping that the soldiers would interpret it as an act of surrender, not aggression. "I am not in the mood to fight, and I would like to avoid bloodshed."

The head soldier laughed. "You want to avoid bloodshed?" He asked, incredulous. "Well, then why did you start the Great War?"

"What war?" Holondil asked. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"Don't lie to a captain, elf," the head soldier interrupted. "The Great War? The Bondage of Skyrim? Outlawing of Talos? The Stormcloak Rebellion? Any of that sound familiar?"

"I am sorry, but I do not know of that which you speak," Holondil admitted.

"Sir, he doesn't look like a Thalmor," one of the other soldiers said. "He's not dressed in Thalmor armor or robes, and he doesn't have their accent, so he can't be an informant for them."

"Are you a Nord or an Elf?" The head soldier demanded before Holondil could ask who the Thalmor were. The one who spoke up said nothing, and the head soldier nodded. "If you're a true son of Skyrim, you will slaughter this elf in the name of the Stormcloak Rebellion, and avenge the deaths of those lost to the Thalmor! Charge!" On his orders, the soldiers charged forward.

Holondil jumped backward and shot Sparks (Editor's Note: Spell names will always be capitalized) from his hands, quickly killing two of the soldiers. "I warned you," the Nord/Snow Elf said gravely. "I will not repeat myself. Leave me be."

"Talos smite you!" The Stormcloak captain shouted, charging forward.

Thinking fast, Holondil reached out for a sword from one of the fallen Stormcloak soldiers. The steel blade flew into his hand, surprising the soldiers. _(It would appear that Akatosh was not lying,)_ Holondil thought. He jumped back, blocking a strike from the captain's greatsword. He knew that trying to pit his strength against a greatsword would potentially be a deadly decision, so he skillfully parried the heavy blade to the side, leaving the captain open. Without hesitation, Holondil cut off the captain's head, knowing that the Aedra wouldn't punish him for this fight. He had literally been thrown headlong into the fight, and now he had to get out of it. One soldier tried to chop him with a battleax, but Holondil dodged to the side and ran the soldier through his side while he was still off balance. He looked at the last soldier, who was slowly and cautiously backing away. "You are not like the others," Holondil said, breathing heavily from the battle. "You were willing and able to see me as other than whatever this 'Thalmor' group is. I have no quarrel with you. Leave in peace." The Stormcloak soldier immediately turned tail and ran.

Holondil nodded and turned to the Stormcloak soldiers he had killed. There was no sense in letting the armor go to waste. He removed the armor from one of the Stormcloak soldiers. The captain's armor was stronger, but Holondil didn't want to be mistaken as one of the Stormcloaks' captains. That situation could get very complicated very fast, and he knew he still had much to learn about his homeland before he could do anything. He knew that joining any group would be a poor idea. After all, it was blind devotion that had gotten him exiled in the first place. "Perhaps it would be best for me to find some forme of employment. I need the gold, and I could use my position to learn more about this 'Stormcloak Rebellion' that commanding officer was talking about."

He looted the armor from the rest of the soldiers, tossing their bodies into some nearby bushes, and started picking the mountain flowers near the bushes. He knew that even though much time had passed since he'd last been in Skyrim, the mountain flowers were still useful alchemy ingredients. He'd never practiced it much as his … former self, but he knew from many village sackings that alchemists were incredibly hard foes to defeat. He grabbed a couple passing bees as an afterthought, managing not to get stung. He looked at the map he had swiped from the Stormcloak Captain. "Judging from the position of the river, I'm not far from Whiterun," Holondil muttered, not knowing what Whiterun was. According to the map, there was a meadery nearby, and he was in need of cash. _(I should try my luck there,)_ Holondil thought.

 **-Two days later-**

Two days later, Holondil made his way to a building in the wilderness. Its name was the Honningbrew Meadery. Once again, he thanked Julianos, the Aedra of logic and commerce, for his unique ability to learn written languages quickly. The Nordic written language had changed greatly in the centuries since his exile, so his mother's teaching was next to worthless, unless he was using Ancient Nordic writing as a secret code. He walked into the meadery, and was immediately greeted by a gruff, "What are you doing here? Lost your patrol, have you?"

Holondil looked at the owner. He appeared to be a middle-aged, balding Nord with an unhappy look on his face. "I only took this armor because they attacked me, and I had nothing that was better," he replied. "I'm looking for a job."

"Hmm," the middle-aged Nord grumbled thoughtfully. "Are you afraid to get your hands dirty?" He asked.

Holondil shook his head. "I am not," he said, showing the Nord his already dirty hands.

"Oh, great. A wise guy. And are you willing to work long hours?" The Nord asked.

"Yes," Holondil replied shortly.

The Nord before him pondered this for a moment. "Considering I haven't exactly gotten any other job offers, you're in, Elf," he replied. "My name is Sabjorn. Your starting rate is 50 gold Septims an hour. Be glad. Most employers wouldn't offer that much to someone just starting their job."

"I am definitely glad," Holondil replied. He needed money, preferably money that didn't mean getting into fights frequently, and while Sabjorn was gruff and irritable, he didn't seem like the type to get into a lot of trouble. "When do I start?" He asked.

"Immediately," Sabjorn replied. "Here," he said, giving Holondil some work clothes. "That armor's not proper Meadery clothing." Holondil nodded and went to another room to change into his Honningbrew Meadery clothing, which appeared to have had a previous owner. The sleeves were dirty, and the pants legs appeared to be crusted with dried mead. After changing into his new work clothes, Holondil went to the boilery and began stirring the large vats filled with mead. "Be sure to stir those vats for the next hour or so. I don't want the mead going bad," Sabjorn said. Holondil nodded, grabbed the great wooden plank that was the stirrer, and began stirring the mead. Because the containers were so full, Holondil had mead splashing up on his feet more than once. It troubled him as a Nord that this mead on his clothes could not be consumed, but he knew that there was plenty of mead in the vat that he could purchase from his employer at a later time when he had money to do so.

After a few weeks, an Imperial named Mallus joined Holondil in maintaining the batches. Holondil appreciated the help, but refused to let Mallus do all the work. They were paid on the amount of work they did in addition to their hourly wages, and Holondil still needed the money. There was plenty of work for both of them to do: sweeping the boiler floors, trimming the plants in front of the Meadery, stirring the vats to make sure the mead didn't go sour, and other such menial tasks. "We shouldn't have to do all this," Mallus confided to Holondil during one of their rare breaks. "We're doing all the work, and Sabjorn's getting all the gold."

"Perhaps," Holondil replied, "but obviously, if we start complaining about our work, Sabjorn could throw us out and hire someone he believes will not complain so much."

"What are you doing, just standing around?" Sabjorn asked gruffly. "I'm not paying you to not work. Either work, or I'm throwing you both out! Understand?"

"Yes, Sabjorn," Holondil replied politely. Mallus grumbled an objection, but nodded yes.

"Good," Sabjorn said. "I'm gonna need you two to do some night work. I've tasted the mead, and it's not acceptable. It needs more time in the boiler." Mallus and Holondil didn't object, but Holondil was less than pleased. He had worked hours on that mead recipe, and he knew that it was among the best meads in Skyrim, rivaling even Black-Briar Mead in taste. "Well, hop to it, then!" Sabjorn snapped. Holondil immediately began running toward the boilery. "At least he's good for something," Sabjorn remarked to Mallus, who immediately began his own run toward the boilery.

"I am beginning to see what you mean," Holondil said to Mallus.

"What do you mean?" Mallus asked.

"You know I worked for hours trying to figure out this new mead recipe, and it's still not good enough for him. Does he _want_ to lose the business edge to Black-Briar Mead?" Holondil asked, visibly displeased with his circumstances.

Mallus nodded in agreement. "I know," he replied. "I've tasted that mead you made, and it was the best mead I've ever had. Well, best get back to work. After all, we're not getting paid for sitting on our butts and discussing taste like we're judges at a mead judging contest. What I wouldn't do for that opportunity…"

Holondil nodded and began stirring his vat while Mallus began stirring his. Little did they know that Sabjorn had been secretly listening to them. _(I'd best keep an eye on both of them,)_ the Nord thought. _(It looks like Holondil's not as good as I think. There's been mead missing from the batches. It's probably him, though I should also keep an eye on that lazy Imperial Mallus. It could be him, or both of them.)_

As the weeks turned into months, Holondil became more and more gruff toward what he believed to be an increasingly ungrateful and exploitative Sabjorn. One day, exactly 93 days since Holondil had started working at the meadery, a Stormcloak captain and his soldiers stopped by for a drink. Sabjorn obliged them, and Holondil eavesdropped on them, trying to learn more about the war between this Empire and the Stormcloak Rebellion. "This is good mead," the Stormcloak captain remarked. "Who made it?"

"The recipe's something one of my workers came up with and I improved on," Sabjorn boasted. Holondil was very unhappy. Not only had he spent hours creating the recipe, and many days perfecting the brew, but he was not being given credit for it. The only thing dulling his unhappiness was that the Stormcloaks were thoroughly enjoying the mead. The Stormcloaks enjoyed the mead for another hour before stumbling out of the Meadery. They had said nothing about the war, making Holondil even more curious. Barely an hour later, Sabjorn shouted, "HOLONDIL, GET YOUR THIEVING ASS IN HERE!" Angered by the accusation, Holondil sprinted to the room he shared with Mallus, where he found a furious Sabjorn and what appeared to be several cases of Black-Briar Mead stacked on top of his bed. "What's this? Drinking my competitor's mead?" Sabjorn asked angrily.

"I would not do such a thing, not unless I was comparing it to the brand you make Mallus and myself make," Holondil replied bluntly.

"Well, from the look of things, you did a lot of 'comparing'," Sabjorn rebutted. "I want you out of here by this time tomorrow, or I'm calling the Whiterun Guard on you."

Holondil glared at Sabjorn. "I will take my leave," he growled, "but there will come a day when you will regret firing me."

Sabjorn glared back. "Is that a threat?" He asked, getting in Holondil's face.

"No. It was a promise," Holondil replied, towering over the Meadery owner by a head.

For a moment, neither of them moved a muscle. Sabjorn tried to stare down the Nord/Elf before him, but found the angry glow in his eyes to be too much. "On second thought, you've got until tonight to get out of here!" Sabjorn snapped, trying to get some control back.

"Good," Holondil replied bluntly. "I am glad we came to an understanding."

Sabjorn left the room, and Mallus looked impressed. "I didn't think you had it in you," he commented.

"While I was employed, I had to be on my best behavior around Sabjorn, but now that I am fired from my job, I do not need to hold back what I truly think of that idiot," Holondil replied bitterly, Mallus nodding in agreement. _(What a [mey], a fool,)_ Holondil thought about Sabjorn.

By midafternoon, Holondil had changed back into his Stormcloak gear and left the Honningbrew Meadery behind. He knew that he could not afford to be unemployed for a long time. There was the strong possibility that there was an inn nearby that was looking for a worker, and Holondil was hardly in the mood to say 'no' to a job opportunity. According to his map, not a few days away was an inn in Helgen. _(I lose nothing if my offer is rejected, but if I do not attempt, I will not win,)_ Holondil thought. He knew that the night was coming fast, and so he began to make preparations for his journey to Helgen. He consulted the map he had stolen from the Stormcloak Captain. According to the map, there was a possible bandit camp in the way, and he knew that he still had to learn how to fight like a member of the Fourth Age. There was also Darkwater Crossing, which was labeled as a mining camp. Holondil smiled. He didn't know why, but he had always enjoyed mines. True, they were dangerous, but there was so much ore to mine, and if there was something Holondil definitely wanted to learn how to do, it was smithing Daedric Armour. Rolling up his map, Holondil changed his course and began making his way south toward Darkwater Crossing.

After three days' travel, Holondil had made his way to Darkwater Crossing. The town seemed deserted. Too quiet, and Holondil knew that silence brought trouble. He was right. He heard a shouting off to the west, and went to investigate. He saw a person wearing Stormcloak soldier armour and a man wearing fancy robes fighting soldiers dressed in steel armour that differed greatly from whatever the Stormcloak soldier was wearing. The fancy-robed man said _"[Fus Ro Dah!]"_

Holondil's eyes widened in surprise. _(He knows the Thu'um, the Storm-Voice?)_ He wondered. He was about to make his exit, but felt a sharp point on his back. "I always knew I hated this armour for a reason," he remarked.

"You're coming with us, spy," the steel armour-wearing female officer said. "Don't make any sudden moves, and we'll get along marvelously."

"I have no reason to run. I have nowhere to go in this strange land," Holondil replied, rising slowly as the soldier directed him.

"Well, now. Where are you from?" The soldier who had captured the Stormcloak and well-dressed man asked.

Holondil noticed that the man with the Stormcloak had a gag on. "You would not believe me if I told you," he replied.

"You have plenty of time to lie when the wagons set off toward Helgen," the woman officer rebutted.

"Watch your tongue, Imperial," the Stormcloak soldier warned.

"Wait, wait! I'm not a rebel!" A voice protested. Holondil and the others looked over to see who it was. It was a skinny-looking Nord man, and he looked very nervous. "Why won't you listen?! Just let me go!" The man pleaded.

"Oh, for the love of Akatosh, could you give THIS man a gag, too?!" Holondil said, already exasperated.

"I'm afraid he's not important enough for that," the Imperial woman replied, although Holondil could tell that she had seriously thought about it. "Now, put on some cloths more befitting prisoners," she added, handing the group some roughspun clothes. Holondil changed into his clothing faster than you could say "Cheese for everyone!" The whining Nord complained the whole way, but changed into his prisoner clothes. The gagged man made no objections, although Holondil saw the glare of defiance in his eyes. After the final prisoner had changed, the prisoners had their hands bound in the front to avoid any incidents involving the freeing of their hands.

"If I can make a simple request…" Holondil began.

"What is it?" The Imperial woman asked, sounding bored, "Is it about gagging that Lokir guy?"

"Actually, no," Holondil admitted. "I would appreciate it if you put my Daedra Heart to good use," he said. "Those things are exceptionally rare."

The Imperial captain pondered the request. "I think I can promise that," she decided.

Holondil nodded and got on the wagon pointed out to him. As the Stormcloak soldier, named Ralof, got on the cart, he said, "I'm impressed. You may be an Elf, but you certainly know how to admit defeat."

"I am not just Elf," Holondil replied. "I am also part Nord." The gagged man, identified as Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, made a muffled laughing noise through his gag, rolling his eyes. "I warned you," Holondil said in an 'I told you so' voice. "I warned that no one would believe me."

"It hardly matters," the Imperial Soldier driving the wagon replied as the caravan got moving. "Just don't make things too difficult for yourself. No one seems to know who you are, but that could be a good thing. Just keep quiet when we get to Helgen, and you'll probably be freed. I can make no promises, though."

"That is alright," Holondil replied. "I believe I have already used up all my promises asking your captain to put my Daedra Heart to good use."

The Imperial Soldier let out a low, long whistle. "You could bet your place in Sovngarde that a Daedra Heart would be put to good use," he remarked.

"I don't like you joking about the honored deads' reward," Ralof replied, "but I will agree with you, Imperial."

As the wagons trekked slowly to their destination, the cowardly thief Lokir finally shut up as he fell asleep. "A great mercy," Holondil noted about the sleeping Nord.

"On that, we agree," Ralof replied. "Why were you wearing Stormcloak armour anyways, Elf?" He asked bluntly.

"Stormcloaks attacked me, so I killed them," Holondil replied back in matching bluntness, "except for that one guy who did not attack me. I allowed him to leave."

"Why?" Ralof asked, curious.

"It is quite simple, actually," Holondil replied. "He did not attack me."

"Shut up back there and get some sleep," the Imperial Soldier driving their wagon said. Holondil nodded and quickly fell asleep.

Ralof didn't get a wink of sleep the two days it took them to get to Helgen. A couple of times, the prisoner wagons had to stop until the soldiers were absolutely certain that there were no vampires before them. When they finally got within view of Helgen, Ralof asked Lokir, "Hey, what village are you from, horse-thief?"

"Why do you care?" Lokir replied, managing to sound bitter.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home," Ralof replied.

"R-Rorikstead. I'm from Rorikstead," Lokir replied. He looked over at the gagged man. "What's wrong with him?"

"Watch your tongue," Ralof snapped. "You're talking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE High King of Skyrim!"

"Ulfric?" Lokir said, surprised. "You're … You're the leader of the rebellion! But that means … Oh, gods. Where are they taking us?" He asked, reverting to his normal worrying self.

"I don't know, but Sovngarde awaits," Ralof replied.

"Shut up back there!" The Imperial soldier said.

"Yes. Shut up, Rorikstead thief. I would appreciate that," Holondil spat out, glaring at the bound coward.

As they entered the gates of Helgen, another Imperial soldier called out, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good. Let's get this over with," General Tullius replied.

As they went further into Helgen, Ralof scoffed. "General Tullius, military governor of Skyrim," he said mockingly, "and he's got the Thalmor with him, too. Damn Elves. Should've known they'd have something to do with this."

"Not all Elves want you dead," Holondil rebutted, pointing at himself. "I just want that Lokir guy to shut up."

Ralof nodded. "That would truly be a godsend," he remarked. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in…"

The wagons reached their destination in the town square, and there they stopped. "Get into line when we read off your name," the Imperial captain said, looking briefly at an Imperial soldier holding a piece of parchment.

"Empire loves their damn lists," Ralof replied as they disembarked from the wagon.

"Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm," the Imperial soldier with the list said.

Ulfric walked to his place in line, and Ralof said, "It has been an honor serving you, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood," the Imperial soldier read. Ralof walked to his spot in the line of people to be beheaded. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

"No, I'm not a rebel!" Lokir objected, making a run for it. He was shot by archers before he got too far.

"As cowardly in death as he was in life," Holondil remarked.

"Anyone else feel like running?" The Imperial captain asked.

"Wait," the Imperial soldier with the list said. He turned to Holondil. "Who are you?" He asked.

"My name is Holondil," Holondil replied. "I am a Nord/Snow Elf. I believe that I am innocent, but I also know that running will not prove that."

"Wise words indeed," the Imperial soldier with the list remarked. He looked at the list, and a confused look appeared on his face. He looked at the parchment for a good few minutes before turning to the captain and said, "Captain, what should we do? He's not on the list."

"Forget the list. He goes to the block," the captain replied.

"By your orders, captain," the other soldier said reluctantly. He turned to Holondil and said, "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your ashes get to … Where are you from, anyways?"

"What is now known as Markarth," Holondil replied, "but don't bury me there. I don't want my grave desecrated." He took his spot in the group. He got a look at General Tullius. The Imperial General appeared to be around the same age as Sabjorn, but he had a more dignified air about him. _(If I wasn't about to be killed, I would've considered working for him. Can't be any worse than Sabjorn,)_ Holondil thought.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion," General Tullius began. "Some in Skyrim call you a king, but a king doesn't use the Voice to murder his king and usurp the throne. You have caused enough trouble, but you will be put down today, and balance will be restored in Skyrim."

There was a roar in the distance, one that made Holondil's skin crawl. "What was that?" The Imperial captain asked.

"It's nothing," General Tullius replied. "Continue."

"Yes, General Tullius," the Imperial Captain said, turning to the priestess of Arkay. "Give them their last rites."

The priestess of Arkay said, "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt of Nirn-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" A Stormcloak soldier interrupted, walking to the executioner's block.

"As you wish," the priestess of Arkay replied, unhappy that she had been so rudely interrupted.

"Come on. I haven't got all morning," the Stormcloak soldier said. As he was forced to kneel by the Imperial captain, he said, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?"

"My ancestors wish you would shut up," Holondil rebutted as the headsman's axe descended.

As the Imperial captain pushed the now headless Stormcloak to the side, people began crying out. "You Imperial bastards!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

"As fearless in death as he was in life," Ralof remarked to Holondil.

"Next, the Nord-Elf!" The captain said.

There was another roar in the distance, but this one was much closer. "Did you hear that?" Ralof wondered.

"How I wish I did not," Holondil replied, an imperceptible twinge of fear in his voice.

"I said, next prisoner!" The Imperial captain snapped.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," the Imperial soldier with the list said.

"You do not need to worry about that," Holondil said as he walked forward to the block. "Unlike some people, I know how to be dignified in my final moments. Better to go to Sovngarde with bravery to endure rather than running in fear."

He knelt, and his head was pushed down, forcing him to look at the headsman. He gasped, seeing an all too familiar figure emerging from the clouds. "What in Oblivion is that?!" General Tullius shouted.

The large black dragon landed heavily on the tower behind the headsman, causing him to slice the front of Holondil's throat. Since the axe swing had also severed his bonds, Holondil used the Healing spell to repair his throat. He stood up, feeling dazed as fire seemed to rain down around him. "Still alive, prisoner?!" A voice asked. "Stay close to me if you want to stay that way!"

Holondil tried to stay with the soldier, but ended running into a nearby tower, where he found an ungagged Ulfric Stormcloak and Ralof. "Ulfric! Can the legends be true?" Ralof asked.

"Legends don't burn down villages," Ulfric replied. "We have to move, now!"

Without a pause, Holondil ran up the stairs of the tower alongside a Stormcloak soldier. Suddenly, Holondil jumped back, pulling the Stormcloak soldier back as the wall imploded, revealing the face of the dragon attacking the village. _"[Yol Toor Shul!]"_ The dragon Shouted as a stream of flames shot from his mouth.

Once the dragon flew away, Holondil jumped through the hole, landing in the attic portion of the inn. He quickly exited the burning building, the fire burning off what hair he had. "Follow me, prisoner!" The Imperial solider from earlier said. This time, Holondil followed. The two ran through Helgen, making sure to avoid getting the dragons attention. Just as they were about to enter the Keep, though, they were confronted by an armed Ralof and other Stormcloak soldiers. "Damnit, Ralof! Get out of my way!" The Imperial soldier demanded.

"We're escaping, Hadvar. You can't stop us this time!" Ralof proclaimed.

"Fine!" Hadvar snapped. "I hope that dragon takes you ALL to Sovngarde!" Holondil and Hadvar entered the hold, and Hadvar said, "There's a chest around here somewhere with Imperial armour in it, and there should be some potions around here, too."

Holondil quickly found and donned the Imperial soldier armour. "I prefer this over the Stormcloak armour," he said in a gravelly voice.

Hadvar turned around in surprise. "What happened to your voice?" He asked. Holondil pointed to where the headsman's failed execution chop had landed. "I see," Hadvar replied. "I'm not a healer, but it looks to me like your throat will heal on its own. Did you heal yourself right after the headsman's axe hit?" He asked. Holondil nodded, and Hadvar said, "Let's see if we can find some Health potions."

The two snuck through the underground passages of the keep, trying to keep quiet. "We have to get moving," they heard a voice further up the cave say.

"Just give me a moment to rest," another voice, a female one, said.

"Let's go. We can take them by surprise," Hadvar whispered. Holondil nodded, and placed a hand on the hilt of his Imperial Sword, not trusting his partially disabled voice to remain quiet. Hadvar waited until the door had been opened, and charged in, shouting, "Death to the Stormcloaks!" Holondil charged in behind him, using the edge of his sword to quickly take down the female Stormcloak soldier. Hearing that Hadvar was having trouble with his own soldier, Holondil turned around, using the flat of his sword to smack the Stormcloak soldier over the head, stunning him long enough for Hadvar to run him through. "Well done," Hadvar complimented Holondil. "I have to say, I've never seen someone use a sword like that, before. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"I learned it a long time ago, when I was young," Holondil whispered.

Hadvar nodded, and began running down the other passage leading out of the room, Holondil following close behind.

- **Aetherius-**

Meanwhile, in Aetherius, the Aedra were watching Holondil charge forward and followed Hadvar in fighting their way out of the keep. "He certainly is unusual," Dibella remarked to the man in simple brown robes. "I'm still not sure why we waited so long to give him his chance at redemption."

"I was all for giving him the chance a few thousand years ago," a man dressed in fine clothes remarked to the same man. "Why exactly did you wait so long, Akatosh? As far as I know, he did nothing to blaspheme you."

"He did not," Akatosh replied, "but it was not the right time."

"I don't know. The Oblivion Crisis seemed like a damned good time to have him here with us," the well-dressed man replied.

"There's always another level to Akatosh's reasoning, Julianos," a woman dressed in simple blue robes said to the well-dressed man. "Am I right?"

"You are correct, Mara," Akatosh replied, and the Aedra turned to the portal through which they were viewing Holondil.

"What is it?" A woman dressed in light blue robes asked. "Why now? I have to agree with Julianos. The Hero of Kvatch could have definitely used the help fighting the forces of Oblivion."

Akatosh looked a bit surprised. "Why exactly are you favoring him, Kynareth? I thought of all Aedra, you'd be the one hating him the most," he noted, the others agreeing with him.

"I know when a person's truly penitent, and I have not seen a more truly sorry soul than Holondil," Kynareth said. "He said something once that I found interesting. He once said, 'I would fight my former master if that were the only way.' We shall soon find out if that's real intent, or just mere bluster."

"On that, we agree," a middle-aged looking being by the name of Arkay said.

"We most definitely agree," Akatosh added, voicing the consensus of the Aedra. "Soon, he will rise, and when he does, the world shall know that we have not abandoned them. Let the flames be rekindled, for our champion will soon appear…"

 **And so ends the first chapter of my Skyrim fanfic. I will be keeping my author's notes as short as they can be so that the reader isn't distracted from the content of the chapter.**

 **Yes, this is a story of many ancient wrongs being righted by Holondil. Now, concerning the poll I once had open on my profile, I'll be opening it back up until 5/22/16. That way, you can vote on what side Holondil takes in the Civil War in Skyrim. Imperial, or Stormcloak? You decide. Until next time, take care!**


	2. Chapter 2: Danger On The Horizon

**I'm surprised that Redemption hasn't gotten more views, but then again, it's been a while since I've written a Fiction M fanfic. I would like to thank Nobel Six and ninja of fallen Sakura, who reviewed the previous chapter. Your reviews were appreciated. Now, on to the next chapter of Holondil's adventure.**

 **-Chapter 2: Danger On The Horizon-**

The ground above Hadvar and Holondil rumbled as the dragon continued his assault on the village. "Damnit. What will it take to stop that thing?" Hadvar asked.

"Trust me. It is best that you do not know," Holondil replied, his voice still gravelly despite a Potion of Minor Healing being applied to his throat.

Hadvar turned around and looked at Holondil. "There's got to be a reason why that thing's attacking us, and it seems that you know something about it. Once we get out of here, you can tell me," he said. Suddenly, the ceiling immediately above Hadvar started crashing down. Hadvar jumped backwards, and he saw that a Stormcloak soldier had fallen through the hole. "Ralof?" He asked, shocked to see the enemy soldier in front of him.

"That's my name," Ralof replied. He stood up on his feet and warily regarded the two before him. "So, you wear Imperial armor now, Elf?" He asked Holondil.

"Trust me, Ralof. Right now, you have one enemy, and that is the dragon attacking this town," Holondil replied. "If you won't help us get out of this crypt, get out of our way."

Ralof nodded. "In that case," he said, sheathing his sword, "watch my back, and I'll watch yours."

Hadvar nodded, but kept his sword out. "Let's go," he said. The three warriors ran through the tunnels, often avoiding being buried alive by the skin of their teeth. Soon, they made their way to a room in the tunnel that seemed to be relatively stable. "Hold up," Hadvar whispered. "See that?" He asked, pointing at the bear ahead.

"Do you have a bow?" Holondil asked.

Ralof gave him a Hunting Bow and 10 Iron Arrows. "Good luck," he said.

Holondil replied. Notching an arrow, he raised the bow and took aim. He released the arrow, and his aim was true, striking the bear in the head and killing it. "Good shot," Hadvar replied. Holondil nodded, and took the bear's claws. He couldn't carry the coat, but he could use the claws as an alchemy ingredient. The three made their escape, exiting the cave. Hearing a roar, they ducked behind a rock as the dragon flew past. Hadvar watched as the dragon flew away, and when he was satisfied that they were safe, he said, "Looks like that thing's gone for good." He turned to Holondil and asked, "You know something about that dragon, don't you?"

"Oh, more than I could ever care to know," Holondil replied as he stared into the night sky, remembering events from his past. "That was no mere dragon," he started. "His name is Alduin."

"The World-Eater?" Ralof asked. "Isn't his appearance a sign of the end times?"

Holondil nodded, and replied, "Yes, but it is said that when Alduin returns, the Dragonborn will oppose him. I do not know who this Dragonborn is, but whoever he or she is, they are our only hope."

Ralof gave a soft sigh of relief. "That's good news to my ears," he remarked. "You know, we're not far away from Riverwood. My sister runs the mill there."

"Gerdur?" Hadvar asked. "My uncle, Alvor, sometimes buys lumber from her."

Ralof gave an ironic chuckle. "We're on opposing sides of the war, yet our families live in the same town. Next thing you know, I'll be a Greymane and you'll be a Battleborn," he joked. "We'd best get moving. I'll tell Gerdur that you helped us escape Helgen. She's no friend of the Legion, but she won't give you any trouble."

Hadvar nodded, and the three set out on the road toward Riverwood. About halfway there, they were attacked by vampires. "Get behind me!" Hadvar ordered. Exhausted from all the excitement, as well as not sleeping for three days, Ralof obeyed. Holondil shot a burst of flames from his hands at the vampires, forcing them back. There were only two, but they proved to be tough opponents. The larger vampire tried to move to attack Hadvar's back, but a swipe from Ralof's blade forced him back.

The other vampire, hair smoldering from the fire, launched an attack on Holondil, sapping his strength with a Drain Life spell. Holondil glared at the vampire woman through the red glare of the spell, and he launched a burst of Sparks at her, quickly forcing her to pull out her Orcish Dagger. Before Holondil could dodge, she had sliced his throat open, further damaging his vocal cords. "Great," Holondil drawled as he healed the wound. "As if my voice wasn't damaged enough already." Before the vampire woman could attack again, an arrow from Hadvar flew through the air, barely missing her hair. The vampire turned to face Hadvar, but a strike from Ralof cut her down. "Hopefully, we don't encounter any more difficulty like this," Holondil said.

Hadvar examined the Nord/Elf. "Did she infect you?" He asked.

"I do not believe so," Holondil replied, "but when I can, I will visit a Shrine to one of the Eight-"

"You mean Nine," Ralof interrupted.

Holondil's face was blank, but then he realized his mistake. "I always forget about Talos," he said. "My apologies."

"Since you helped me get out of Helgen," Ralof replied, "I'll let you use the Shrine of Talos that Gerdur has in her basement." He looked at Hadvar. "I hope you didn't hear that, Imperial," he said.

"Just as long as you didn't hear that I have an Amulet of Talos," Hadvar replied.

Ralof nodded, and the three warriors made their way through the wilderness until they came to three strange Stones. "These are three of the thirteen Standing Stones scattered across Skyrim," Ralof explained to Holondil.

Holondil nodded, and walked toward the Stones. As he got closer, standing in the middle of the dais they were on, he noticed the figures etched on the Stones. One had the appearance of a Mage, garbed with a robe and a long beard. Another had the appearance of a Warrior, garbed in armor and wielding a sword and shield. The last had the appearance of a vagrant, garbed in robes only a thief would wear. The figure was wielding a dagger. After thinking for a few minutes, Holondil made his choice. "I choose the Warrior Stone," he said, placing a gloved hand on the Stone. The Stone glowed for a few moments before dimming back to its original state.

"That's a good choice," Hadvar remarked, Ralof nodding in agreement. The Imperial soldier looked at the sky. "It will be daylight soon," he said. "Hopefully, Gerdur will be awake by the time we get to Riverwood."

"No worries, Imperial," Ralof replied as the three began quickly walking down the road. "My sister gets up early in the morning to get her work started, so even if her husband's not awake, she'll be."

As Hadvar predicted, the three walked into the town of Riverwood just as the sun was beginning to rise. "Uncle Ralof! There's two Imperials behind you!" A young voice cried out. Holondil looked up, and saw a young boy running up to them with an Iron Dagger in his hands.

With a chuckle, Ralof ran up to the boy and embraced him, disarming him of his dagger. "Don't worry, Frodnar," he said to the boy. "If it wasn't for these two, I wouldn't be here."

The boy looked surprised. "Really?" He asked, walking over to Hadvar and Holondil. "Ouch," he said as he noticed the damage to Holondil's throat. "Your neck's really red."

"I haven't exactly had the opportunity to clean myself," Holondil replied dryly.

"Ralof?" An unfamiliar female voice asked. Holondil looked in the direction of the voice, and saw a middle-aged woman in a green dress approach them. "Oh, thank Mara you're okay," the woman said. She looked at Holondil and Hadvar with a suspicious eye. "Why are these Imperials with you?"

Ralof sighed, taking a seat on a nearby stump. "The elf's not in the Legion, and if it wasn't for Hadvar and him, I wouldn't be here," he replied. "It's a long story, Gerdur."

"Well, you're going to have a long rest before you tell me anything," Gerdur said.

Ralof nodded, and stumbled off toward Gerdur's house, where a middle-aged Nord man welcomed him in. "Good to see you, Hod," Ralof said as he walked inside.

Gerdur smiled as she watched her brother walk into the house. "And you," she said, turning to Holondil. "What's a Thalmor agent like you doing here?" She asked, noting Hadvar standing nearby.

Holondil raised a nearly burned-off eyebrow, and replied, "I am no Altmer, Gerdur," he replied in his gravelly voice. "Nor am I Thalmor. I have no love for them, for they have no love for me."

"Really?" Gerdur asked sarcastically, not believing what Holondil said.

In reply, Holondil removed his helmet, revealing his bald head. "If the Thalmor loved me, I would not have lost my hair," he replied, "and I would not have had my vocal cords almost sliced apart. Twice." Gerdur narrowed her eyes, and Holondil narrowed his eyes, staring at her. "If you do not believe that I am not with the Thalmor," he said, leaning in to whisper in Gerdur's ear, "I believe in the Nine, in Talos."

Gerdur stumbled away from Holondil in surprise. "No Thalmor agent would say that with such a normal voice," she said, surprised.

"Told you," Holondil replied, "and don't worry about Hadvar, either. He's the reason I'm still here."

Hadvar whispered in Gerdur's ear, "I have an Amulet of Talos, but you did not hear it from me."

Gerdur nodded, and suddenly, she realized something. "Isn't Alvor your uncle?" She asked Hadvar.

"Aye, he is," Hadvar replied.

"He's been looking for some help in building a roof to keep his smelter dry," Gerdur said. "He could use the help." She turned to Holondil. "I don't entirely trust you-"

"He's good," Hod said, walking over to the three. "I just spoke to Ralof, and Holondil's as much a victim of the Thalmor as we are."

Gerdur looked surprised, but nodded. "Well, my husband vouches for you, so I guess I can trust you," she said.

Holondil suddenly felt a little ill. "We got into a fight with some vampires," he said. "I need a Potion of Cure Disease if you have one."

"So, you think you might have vampirism?" Hod asked, looking at Holondil's eyes. "Your eyes aren't red. If you do have it, it hasn't been for too long." He stepped back, and beckoned for Holondil to follow him. Wondering what he was going to do, Holondil followed. His question was soon answered when he walked inside the house that Ralof had entered only minutes before. Hod gave him a key. "Ralof trusts you, so I assume you know about the Shrine of Talos?" He asked. Holondil nodded, and Hod said, "Go use it, then," moving a barrel to the side, revealing a trapdoor. Holondil nodded, and he opened the trapdoor with the key he had been given. He crawled down a ladder into the small room. He felt around the space until he felt something metal in his hand. He felt the ill feeling melt away, and he climbed back up the ladder. As soon as he was out of the hidden basement, Hod closed the door and replaced the barrel. "I trust you'll keep it a secret?" Hod asked.

"What secret?" Holondil asked, giving Hod a 'you and I share a secret' wink.

Hod smiled, understanding the wink, and he gestured to a nearby door. "That's the spare bedroom," he said. "You can sleep in there if you want. If you follow the river behind the house, there's a hidden spot where you can wash yourself off without anyone spying on you."

"Thank you," Holondil replied politely. He turned to walk out of the house, but Gerdur blocked his way. "If you do not mind, I wish to make my throat less … conspicuous," he said.

Gerdur nodded, and let him pass. "If you could do me a favor, I would greatly appreciate it," she said.

"What is it?" Holondil asked.

"That Imperial, Hadvar, told me that the dragon that attacked Helgen was flying this way," Gerdur said. "If that horror comes here, we're defenseless. If you could head up to Whiterun and tell the Jarl what happened, I would be in your debt."

Holondil nodded. "I will do that," he replied. "I do not want Helgen's destruction to be repeated." He exited the house and followed the river. Just as Hod had said, there was a spot on the river outside of Riverwood that was well hidden from outside eyes. Holondil took a quick bath in the river, being sure to wash the dried blood off his neck. As soon as he was sure he was clean, he put his clothes and armor back on, being sure to pick the nirnroot that he had noticed previously, knowing that the noisy green plant was hard to get. Following the river, he soon reentered Riverwood. He wasn't feeling tired, so he walked to the inn in town, the Sleeping Giant Inn. On his way, he heard a woman say, "I saw a dragon!"

"Honestly, mother," an exasperated man replied, "if you keep this up, people will think you're crazy."

"I'm not crazy, Sven!" The woman replied.

"She is right," Holondil replied.

The Nord man named Sven turned toward Holondil in surprise. "You're not from around here," he observed.

Holondil nodded. "I saw the dragon with my own eyes," he replied. "It is only by a miracle from the gods that I am alive." He pointed at the top of the Sleeping Giant Inn, and he added, "The dragon was that close to me."

Sven looked surprised. "How big was it?" He asked.

Holondil looked at the inn. "It was about the size of the inn," he replied, "with scales as black as night, and eyes redder than a vampire's."

Sven looked scared. "If that dragon attacks here, we're done for," he said.

"Hope is not lost," Holondil replied. "Tomorrow, I depart for Whiterun. I will convince the Jarl to send soldiers here to defend this town." With that, Holondil walked into the Sleeping Giant Inn. He noticed that there were few people there: just a drunk guy, a woman in a simple dress that appeared to have several patches on it, and a man at the bar. Holondil decided to talk to the bartender, knowing he would be better conversation than the drunk. "I'm looking for work. Do you have any leads?" He asked the bartender, whose name was Orgnar.

"That depends," the bartender replied. Holondil put five Gold pieces on the bar, and after giving him an Ale, Orgnar said, "The Jarl put a bounty out on some bandits at Redoran's Retreat."

Holondil accepted the bounty from Orgnar, drank his Ale, and asked the bartender, "Is it okay if I use the Alchemy Table?"

"Sure thing," Orgnar replied. "Just be sure to clean up when you're done."

Holondil nodded, and bought some bottles from Orgnar, as well as some Wheat and Blisterwort, which Orgnar said would produce a Healing Potion. Holondil soon found that the bartender was right, but he had a feeling that the potion might not be much good in a fight. As he continued making potions, he felt someone watching him. He looked over his shoulder, and he saw the simply dressed woman standing nearby. "You're not from around here, are you?" She asked in a tone that bordered on suspicion.

"I am not," Holondil replied, managing to not mirror her tone. There was something about her he didn't like or trust. He finished making his last Health Potion, cleaned up, and left the Sleeping Giant Inn, aware that the Nord woman was watching him the whole time. Holondil wasn't sure what the look was about, but he knew that the woman was hiding something. That wasn't of any concern to the Nord/Elf. Feeling tired after spending an hour crafting potions, Holondil walked to Hod's and Gerdur's house. He stumbled to the guest bedroom, closed the door, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. The next day, Holondil woke up early, before sunrise, and he made his way to Whiterun. He moved fast, so he arrived at Whiterun's gates in the evening, having stopped only to kill, cook, and consume a deer, saving its hide for possible leather. He saw that the gates to Whiterun were closed and guarded. He approached the closed gate weapons sheathed, and he asked the guard, "Why is the gate closed?"

"There have been dragons sighted," the guard replied.

"That's exactly why I am here," Holondil said. "Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid."

The guard thought over Holondil's words for a few moments, and then opened the gate. "Best get to the Jarl's palace at once," he said.

Holondil nodded, and walked through the city, ignoring all around him. He could hear the whispers. Some were confused as to what he could be _(After all, one doesn't see an Elf with the muscles of a Nord every day,)_ Holondil thought, not bothered by what people were saying. His first stop was War-Maiden's, a smithing shop run by Adrianne Avenicci and Ulfberth War-Bear. He bought some Iron Armor from them, using their changing room to make sure the new armor fit him. Satisfied that it did, Holondil sold his former armor for extra Septims, and then he exited the shop. After a few minutes of walking through the city, he walked up a hill and saw a very large building just beyond what appeared to be the market district of the city. Ignoring the irritable beggar, Holondil walked forward, passing a Shrine of Talos. The priest standing before the Shrine stopped speaking as Holondil walked past, staring at the Nord/Elf like he had two heads.

Holondil soon reached the doorway to the large building, and he went inside. He was immediately approached by a Dark Elf wearing Leather Armor and wielding a Steel Sword. "What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors," the Elf said bluntly.

Holondil smiled. Even after however many thousand years had passed on Tamriel, Dark Elves always managed to sound no-nonsense. "This is important," he replied. "Riverwood is in danger."

The Dark Elf's expression changed from suspicion to understanding, but before she could say anything, a voice said, "It's alright, Irileth. Let him in."

"As you wish, my Jarl," the Dark Elf replied, moving aside to allow Holondil to walk forward. Making his way forward, Holondil bowed his head in respect to the Jarl, a middle-aged man with blonde hair. "Tell the Jarl what you told me," the Dark Elf instructed.

Holondil nodded. "My Jarl," he began, "Riverwood is in danger."

"And how do you know of this?" Jarl Balgruuf asked. Holondil noted the shift in the way the Jarl was sitting. He appeared ready to leap out of his throne.

"Helgen was destroyed by a dragon, and Gerdur fears that Riverwood is next," Holondil replied cautiously, not wanting to provoke the Jarl.

"How do you know that it was a dragon, and not some Stormcloak raid gone wrong?" Balgruuf asked.

Holondil pointed at his scarred throat. "I received this wound in Helgen while trying to escape the dragon," he replied. "The Imperials were just about to execute me before the dragon appeared."

"Really?" Jarl Balgruuf replied, surprised. Holondil saw Irileth reach for her sword, but Balgruuf motioned for her to stay her hand. "You're certainly … forthcoming about your criminal past, however long or short it may be. It does not matter to me. Just as long as whatever happened in the past stays there, we will have no problems."

"That is good," Holondil replied. "I do not wish to make war with leaders of Holds, especially not in these … troubled times."

"That's putting it lightly," Balgruuf replied sarcastically. He turned to a balding man standing next to him. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we trust in the safety of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord," Proventus replied. "I have no doubt as to the authenticity of this individual's report. I have received reports from reliable sources telling that Helgen was indeed destroyed."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Irileth replied. "I advise that we send some troops to Riverwood immediately. I know Gerdur. She is not given to flights of fancy, and knows danger when she hears of it."

"What if the Jarl of Falkreath objects?" Proventus protested. "He might think we're attempting to join Ulfric's side and attack him!"

"ENOUGH!" Jarl Balgruuf interrupted them. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my Hold and slaughters my people!" He turned to Irileth and said, "Irileth, send a detachment of guards to Riverwood right away."

"At once, my Jarl," Irileth replied.

"I'd best return to my duties," Proventus said nervously.

"That would be wise," Balgruuf said. He turned to Holondil, and he said, "Well done. You sought me out, of your own initiative. You have done my people a great service. I won't soon forget it." He looked thoughtful, and he added, "You know, I believe there is something you can do for me. Come. Follow me." Holondil nodded and began following the Jarl. He understood why Balgruuf had reacted the way he had to Riverwood being in danger. He wanted to preserve the lives of his people, and he wouldn't tolerate a possible threat on their lives, or his. The Jarl led him to a small side room where a mage stood, clothed in Blue Mages Robes. "Farengar, I have someone to assist you," Balgruuf said.

"Hmm?" The mage asked as the Jarl made his exit. "Oh, yes. You know, I _could_ use someone to fetch something for me, and when I say fetch, I really mean 'Delve into a dangerous cavern in search of something that may or may not be there'."

Holondil nodded. "What am I seeking, and where is it?" He asked.

"Right to the point, huh?" Farengar asked, smiling. "I like that. I … recently learned of the existence of an ancient stone tablet. It is said to be a map of ancient dragon burial mounds. My … associate learned of its existence in ways she has not divulged, and she seems to think it will assist her in something. I don't know what, but she's paying good gold for it." Holondil nodded in understanding. "Now, about the location," Farengar continued, pointing at a location on a map. "The location is Bleak Falls Barrow, just a short distance away from Riverwood. A rather poor village, if I am not mistaken."

"You are not mistaken," Holondil replied. "I left the town only a few days ago."

"Good," Farengar said. "Then you can head down there with the guards. You could show them the way, too."

"That is an excellent idea, Farengar," Jarl Balgruuf said, having heard what the two were discussing. "What is your name?" He asked Holondil.

"My name is Holondil," Holondil replied.

Jarl Balgruuf nodded, and said, "Holondil, lead the guards to Riverwood at once. I'll not tolerate a threat to my people while I still draw breath!"

Holondil nodded. "As you wish, my Jarl," he said politely before he exited Dragonsreach. It did not take him long to find the guards standing at the base of the stairs. "I have been ordered by Jarl Balgruuf to escort these guards to Riverwood," Holondil told Irileth.

Knowing he was telling the truth, Irileth nodded and told the guards, "Do what he tells you." She left, jogging back toward Dragonsreach.

Holondil turned to the guards. "I assume Irileth told you where we are going, and why we are going there," he began. Receiving nods from the guards, he continued, choosing his words carefully so as to not alarm any citizens of Whiterun listening in. "The Jarl expects you to guard our destination against any and all threats, and he expects me to guide you there. Therefore, we leave at once. Are you with me?"

"Yeah!" The guards shouted.

"Then let's move out!" Holondil replied, turning around and walking after putting his Iron Helmet on. The guards followed close behind him. People, once again, paused what they were doing to watch Holondil go by, but this time, he had seven guards behind him. The small group soon made their way to the gates, which were opened to allow the group through. The guards made good time, and within two days, at dawn, the group of guards arrived in Riverwood, Holondil at the head. "Go, and guard the people," Holondil said.

The guards nodded, and they dispersed as directed by the guard of Riverwood. Gerdur walked up, looking impressed. "Well, you certainly did what you said you would do. Thank you. I don't know how I can repay you."

"If you must repay me," Holondil replied, "point me to where Bleak Falls Barrow is."

Gerdur looked surprised, but nodded. She led Holondil to the southern gate of Riverwood and pointed to some menacing looking ruins in the distance. "That's Bleak Falls Barrow, but I can't imagine why you would want to go there. There are bandits, trolls, and Talos knows what else."

"As long as I don't find Talos ready to fight me," Holondil replied seriously, "I will be alright."

"Talos guide you," Gerdur said.

Holondil nodded. "And also with you," he replied, walking out of Riverwood. Little did he know the path he took would be the path that would change his life forever…

 **Hope you liked the chapter. Please leave reviews, faves, and follows. I find it hard to write when I don't have these.**


	3. Chapter 3: Of Dragons and Births

**I do not understand why Redemption hasn't gotten a greater reception. I thought that I had written it rather well, and I've been assured of this by two good friends: ninja of fallen Sakura and Nobel Six. Your continued support has been greatly appreciated. Now, for your entertainment, the next chapter of Redemption.**

 **-Chapter 3: Of Dragons and Births-**

Holondil looked up at the nearby cave entrance. According to the location noted on his map by Farengar, this was the entrance to Bleak Falls Barrow. There were three guards stationed at the entrance. The Nord/Elf narrowed his eyes. He couldn't sneak past that many guards, and he doubted he could stealthily shoot them from a distance with his Hunting Bow. Readying a Sparks spell in his right hand, Imperial Sword in his left, he walked forward toward the entrance. "Stop right there," a bandit commanded.

"Why?" Holondil asked, not lowering his weapons. "Is there something in there I am not supposed to see?"

"I'm warning you. Back off. Now," another bandit warned.

Holondil didn't move. "Oh, so we're exchanging warnings, are we?" He asked, lowering his gravelly voice to sound menacing. "Now, I am warning YOU. Let me pass, or you will regret it."

One of the bandits began backing off, but his friends stood fast. "Let's see how tough you sound when you're dead!" The one closest to Holondil shouted, charging forward with an Iron Sword in hand.

Holondil disposed of him quickly, using his Imperial Sword to slice his opponent's head off. The other two tried to run, but Holondil hit them in the feet with Sparks, causing them to trip. The bandits got to their feet, but Holondil stabbed them through the neck, right where the neck merged with the back. The two bandits were dead before they knew it. Holondil sheathed his Imperial Sword after wiping it clean on the grass. "Unlocked? How kind of you," Holondil said to no one in particular as he pushed the door open. He soon saw that there were two dead Bandits and three dead Skeevers. Holondil held in a laugh at the thought of Bandits being killed by oversized rodents. How humiliating. The bandits only had 10 Gold overall, and neither of them had what Holondil was looking for.

Going further into the cave, Holondil overheard two Bandits talking. "Yeah. Arvel said something about going deeper into the cave with that claw of his," the one said.

"Yeah? And what's stopping him from leaving us while he makes off with the loot?" The other one asked.

"I hope a spider gets him," the first one said. "Then we'll see if he's as swift as he claims." As the two cruel Bandits laughed, Holondil tried to sneak closer to them, but his foot brushed against a pile of rocks, causing them to clatter loudly as they fell. "What was that?" The first Bandit asked. An arrow, in reply, shot out of the darkness, catching him in the knee. Another arrow shot out toward the other Bandit, but he dodged it. "Who are you?" The first Bandit asked, trying to ignore the pain in his knee.

"That depends, doesn't it?" A voice said out of the darkness. "I could be your destroyer, OR I could be a partner."

The Bandits were interested in spite of themselves. "Talk," the first one said as he stood up, clearly the leader of the group.

"I have heard of a particular item in this barrow," the voice replied. "That is all I seek. You can keep whatever it is you are looking for. I am only interested in the one item."

The Bandit leader shook his head. "I don't believe you, whoever you are," he said. "You'll just kill us and keep the treasure for yourself! If there's one thing I don't like, it's a cheating liar, you … What's your name?"

"Noman," the voice replied just before a burst of Sparks flew out of the darkness and killed the leader.

"I'll kill you for that!" The other bandit shouted. The figure, Holondil, ran out of the darkness and ran him through with his Iron Sword.

"Not if I get you first," Holondil said. Neither of the Bandits had decent armor, but they had, in total, 14 gold and 6 Lockpicks. Holondil wasn't good at Lockpicking, but it would be much quieter than smashing a shield or sword against the lock. As he snuck deeper into the cave, Holondil saw a bunch of white, thread-like stuff on the wall. Intrigued, Holondil snuck closer to the threads, being careful to keep conscious of his surroundings. He soon realized that whatever it was, there was a lot of it on the walls of that part of the barrow. There was a slight clicking noise, one that Holondil knew well. _(Frostbite Spiders. Why did it have to be Frostbite Spiders?)_ Holondil thought to himself. He hated bugs that were close to his size, but he knew that someone was counting on him to retrieve something that could prove to be a boon in fighting the dragons.

As the Nord/elf entered the chamber, he was soon surrounded by Frostbite Spiders, their fangs looking dangerously sharp. Holondil looked around the cave. The ceiling was quite sturdy-looking, as were the walls. He sheathed his sword and unleashed twin bursts of Flames from his hands, quickly incinerating all the Frost Spiders. After harvesting the Frostbite Venom in small bottles he had brought with him, Holondil ventured further into the cave, coming up on a large chamber almost completely covered in spider silk. As Holondil snuck closer, he saw multiple human-shaped and Skeever-shaped silken objects in the chamber. Suddenly, he heard someone with an Australian accent say, "No! Keep it away! Keep it away!" The shout was accompanied by a loud clicking noise, a sign of a rather large Spider. As he edged closer to the entrance of the chamber, he saw a person covered in webbing on the far side of the chamber, and he was alive. "Kill it!" He shouted.

"Forget sneaking," Holondil said to himself. He charged into the chamber, and immediately regretted it. A Giant Frostbite Spider descended from a hole in the ceiling of the cave, and from the look of it, someone had tried to fight it. The giant spider lashed out with a large, hairy leg, but Holondil dodged the attack, slicing at the leg. He failed to cause much damage, but while the spider recoiled from pain, Holondil charged forward. He dove and slid under the spider, slashing at the underbelly. The spider was badly injured by this, but remained standing. Realizing his sword wasn't doing the job, Holondil sheathed it and used Flames with both his hands, roasting the spider. Even after it collapsed motionless, Holondil kept his eye on the spider, not wanting to be snuck up on. After a couple minutes, Holondil was satisfied that the Giant Frostbite Spider wasn't getting up, and he turned his attention to the figure. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Does it matter?" The figure snapped back.

Holondil shrugged. "To business, then. Do you have the Claw your friends were talking about?"

"Yes, I have it," the webbed Bandit said. "I know how it works, too. The Claw, the Hall of Stories, everything. Now, cut me loose."

Holondil shook his head. "I need to know who you are," he said, "and to make you a deal."

"I doubt you could give me anything worth much, adventurer," the Bandit replied. Holondil turned around and began walking out of the chamber. "Wait. Where are you going?!" Holondil said nothing, and he continued walking out of the chamber. "Wait!" The bandit shouted desperately. "I'll make a deal with you."

Holondil stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around. "What is this 'deal' of which you speak?" He asked.

"You cut me down, and I'll let you have whatever you want from the treasure," the Bandit said. "By the way, name's Arvel."

"Well, Arvel," Holondil replied, turning around and walking slowly to the Bandit. "I have a better deal. I cut you down, you take me to that which I seek, and I will let you have whatever you want from the treasure. I'm only interested in one item. You can keep the rest."

"What makes your deal better than mine?" Arvel asked.

"Accepting my deal would be to your benefit," Holondil replied. "You have my word. I will only take the one item I seek. You can keep the Gold, weapons, and whatever other loot there is."

Arvel considered the deal for a moment. He didn't trust this figure, but the thought of keeping the Gold was just too sweet to ignore. "Alright, but you'll cut me down, right?" He asked.

Holondil unsheathed his Imperial Sword. "Stay still," he ordered, not listening to Arvel's protest that he had no choice. With two quick slices, the silken strands gave way, allowing Arvel to drop to the ground. "Let's go," Holondil said, walking into the cave. Arvel followed, keeping his eye on the Nord/elf's back. As the two ventured further into the barrow, they came up on a curving chamber that appeared to have dried-out bodies lying in niches in the walls. "Stay sharp," Holondil said.

"They're not going anywhere," Arvel rebutted.

"Not everything is as it seems." Holondil replied. As if to prove his point, one of the bodies moved. "By the Nine," Holondil murmured. As the Dragon Priest Al-Drun-Dinok, he had heard of the mummification of Dragon Cult members so that they could serve the dragons after death as Draugr. From the looks of things, they had done exactly that. Suddenly, other bodies got up and began surrounding the two. "You take the ones on the right, and I'll take the ones on the left," Holondil said.

"Let's hope we survive this," Arvel said as the two charged into battle. Arvel was almost immediately killed by a Draugr running him through from behind.

Another attempted the same on Holondil, but the warrior dodged to the side, using his telekinesis to grab a sword from one of the Draugr that never woke up. Pausing a moment to analyze the blade, Holondil noted that the black blade's edge was still sharp after however many thousands of years it had lain there. The Draugr pressed in on him, trying to overwhelm him with numbers. Holondil struck hard and fast, hitting the Draugr in the knees. Once they had collapsed, Holondil lopped their heads off to keep them from trying to follow him. Panting, Holondil paused to view the scene before him. Draugr littered the floor, and Arvel's body had been tossed to the side by the battle. Holondil took the Gold that Arvel had, as well as the Golden Claw he'd heard the other Bandits talking about. He also took the three Lockpicks his former partner had had, and ventured deeper into the cave. Soon, he came to a wide hallway with strange drawing on the walls. "So, this must be the Hall of Stories Arvel mentioned," Holondil murmured to himself as he walked forward. The way was blocked by a special door, one that Holondil had once seen as a Dragon Priest. It had three stone half-circles with a metal pad in its center. The pad had three depressions in it. Holondil took the Golden Claw out of his pocket and looked at its underside. There were three figures on the bottom: A fish-like shape, a Bird, and another fish-like shape (Note: This may not be the sequence indicated by the actual Golden Claw). _(What if this Claw was a key to this door?)_ Holondil wondered. _(Only one way to find out,)_ he decided.

He put his hand on the outermost disk, and he found that the stone disk moved smoothly. He pulled on the stone until he came to a fish-like shape. Moving the other stones to match the figures on the bottom of the Claw, Holondil placed the Golden Claw so that its talons matched the depressions in the metal pad. The pad retracted slightly and shifted, and then the door began to move downward. Once the door had finished moving into the floor, Holondil walked forward, noting that the hallway on the other side of the door resembled the hallway on the side he had just been on.

As the warrior walked forward, he began going closer to his goal. He could sense something at the end of the hall. He didn't know what it was, but he had a feeling that the Stone he was seeking was close to whatever this … power was. After three minutes' walking, Holondil found himself in an expansive chamber lit by a hole in the ceiling. There was a large, rectangular coffin with a large chest close to it. As Holondil cautiously approached the coffin, he heard a faint chanting coming from somewhere within the chamber, and it wasn't coming from the coffin. Holondil saw a short wall not far from the strange coffin. There was something glowing on it, and as Holondil got closer to it, the chanting grew louder and louder, and the word became clearer and clearer. It was something in the ancient Dragon tongue. For a moment, Holondil's vision dimmed, and when it cleared, he found that he had learned a new word: _Fus_ , the Dragon word for Force.

Suddenly, the coffin opened up, revealing its occupant. It was a Draugr, that much was obvious from its greyish, shriveled skin. It looked a lot tougher than the ones Holondil had faced previously. The Draugr reared back, and he Shouted, _"Fus Ro Dah!"_

Holondil dodged out of the way before the Shout could hit him. "So, that's how it's gonna be," he said, unsheathing his Imperial Sword. He charged in, ready to defeat this enemy. The Draugr Overlord, as Holondil identified him as, charged into battle with a large, black battleax. Holondil dodged the strike and slashed at the undead warrior's unprotected right shoulder. The Draugr reared back and tried to hit Holondil with the battleax, but the former Dragon Priest dodged again.

For an hour, the two warriors battled, neither gaining an advantage over the other. Growing weary of the battle, Holondil charged in and ripped the battleax from the Draugr Overlord's hands. "Let's try this again," he said, dodging another Unrelenting Force before running in for the kill. He threw the Imperial Sword, but the Draugr dodged. Taking advantage of the distraction, Holondil slashed with the battleax, almost throwing himself off balance with the weapon. One strike took out the Draugr Overlord's knees, but the undead continued fighting, using an odd Shout that knocked the battleax out of Holondil's hands. Unfazed, the Nord/Elf used Flames in one hand and Sparks in the other to kill it.

Holondil paused for a moment, breathing heavily. The battle had taken a toll on him. He had sustained heavy damage to his chestplate, and his good sword arm, the right, had a deep gash in it. The gash was healed with the Healing spell, but the dull ache would only fade away with time. The exhausted warrior checked the nearby chest, and realized that there was a Potion of Vigorous Healing. He downed the strong potion quickly, feeling his wounds seal up. Spotting something in the Draugr's casket, he walked over, and he noticed that it was a strange stone, having the shape of a triangle planted on one of the planes of a square. He didn't know what the stone was supposed to do, but he picked it up anyways. As an afterthought, he took the formerly undead warrior's battleax, believing that he could use it later. The blade had a dull blue glow, a glow Holondil recognized as a Freezing enchantment.

After resting for a few minutes, Holondil ran out of the barrows, making his way back to Riverwood. Once he caught the road there, he would be able to get to Whiterun with little difficulty. After half an hour's run, Holondil made it into Riverwood, the strange stone strapped to his back. As he was entering the town, he saw Gerdur working the lumber mill. "Excuse me. Do you know where the store is in this village?" He asked.

"Go that way to the Riverwood Trader," Gerdur replied, pointing to the nearby building. "Lucian will buy just about anything you have. Just not that stone," she added, pointing to the stone on Holondil's back.

Holondil shrugged, and went toward the Riverwood Trader, not believing that Gerdur needed to know the purpose of the stone. "I said no," a man shouted from behind the counter as Holondil entered. "No adventuring, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"

"Then _what_ are you doing to do?" A woman asked as she sat down at the nearby table. "Let's hear it."

"We are _done_ talking about this!" The man shouted. He suddenly noticed Holondil standing there and promptly said, "Er, sorry about that."

"What happened?" Holondil asked.

"We … had a bit of a break-in," the trader replied. "The thieves were only after one thing, so I've still got plenty to sell you."

"What did the thieves steal?" Holondil asked. "Was it something important?"

"No, not really," Lucian said. "It was a solid gold ornament, in the shape of a Dragon's claw." In reply, Holondil pulled the Golden Claw out of its pouch and placed it on the counter. "You found it!" Lucian said happily. "You did it! Strange… it seems a bit smaller than I last saw it. Strange, huh?" He asked. "Here's some Gold for your trouble," he added, handing over 200 Gold in exchange for the Claw. "Now, what do you wish to buy?" He asked.

"Do you have any Spell tomes?" Holondil asked.

"I have some, but not many," Lucian replied, pulling out a tome of Fireball and a tome of Muffle. "If you want to learn magic, you'd be better off going to Winterhold. They're home to the Mages College, there."

Holondil nodded as he paid for the two tomes. "I will be sure to drop by there, then," he said. After he sold some of the Ancient Nordic gear he had found in the barrow, he walked out of the shop and read the two tomes. They promptly vanished, but he found that he now knew how to cast the spells. "I'd best get back to Whiterun as soon as I can," he said to himself. "I dare not delay." He immediately took off running, able to move at a good speed despite wearing Iron Armor. Within two days, he entered Whiterun around noon. Not stopping at any of the shops, he quickly made his way to Dragonsreach. He entered the palace and found that Farengar was in his room, discussing a volume of tomes with a mysterious woman. "I have the Dragonstone," the Nord/Elf said, placing the heavy stone on an open area of the desk.

"Thank you," Farengar replied. Before he could say anything else, Irileth appeared in the doorway. "Farengar, come quickly. A dragon's been spotted," she said.

"What? How exciting," Farengar replied. "Where was it seen? What was it doing?"

"I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you," Irileth replied dryly. She looked at Holondil and added, "You'd best come, too."

Holondil nodded and followed the Dark Elf. She led him and Farengar up the stairs behind the Jarl's throne, where Balgruuf was talking to a Guard. "…and as soon as I saw that dragon, I ran. I've never ran so fast in my life," the guard finished. "I should've stayed to fight."

"It's better that you're here," Balgruuf assured the Guard. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have known about the attack. Best get yourself down to the barracks for some food and rest," he added. As the guard left, the Jarl turned to Holondil. "There's no time for standing on ceremony, Holondil," he said solemnly. "I need your help again. Since you survived Helgen, you have more experience with Dragons than the rest of us." Holondil nodded, suppressing a frown and wince. "As for your reward for finding the Dragonstone for Farengar, I will instruct Proventus that you are to be allowed to purchase property in the Whiterun Hold." Turning to Irileth, he said, "Irileth, this isn't a death-or-glory mission. Go to the Western Watchtower, search for survivors, and if the Dragon's still there, deal with it, but remember. You're a better housecarl alive than dead."

"Don't worry, my lord. I am the very soul of caution," Irileth replied as she turned around and walked down the steps.

"You are to stay here," Balgruuf said to Farengar. "I can't risk losing both my housecarl and court mage." Farengar nodded, clearly unhappy that he would not get to see this dragon. "Go and join Irileth," the Jarl said as a final order to Holondil.

Holondil nodded and walked out of Dragonsreach. When he got to the gates, Irileth was talking to a couple guards. "Yes, I know none of us has fought such a beast, but we cannot allow that thing to attack Whiterun. Are you with me, or will I have to face this dragon alone?" Irileth asked.

"We stand with you," Holondil replied.

Irileth turned to face the Nord/Elf. "Glad to see you here," she said. "You've got more experience with dragons than the rest of us. Any ideas?"

Holondil sighed. "If we don't stop that thing, we'll have two things on our hands: a scorched Hold, and an angry Jarl Balgruuf," he replied. "I don't know which is worse."

"The angry Jarl," Irileth replied. "Alright, men. Let's move out!" She shouted as she took off toward the gate. Holondil and the guards were right on her trail, and Holondil quickly caught up with the housecarl. "Remember, we're looking for the dragon," she said.

Holondil sniffed. "I have a good idea as to where we can start," he said, running ahead. Irileth struggled to keep up, but when she caught up, Holondil said, "There's the scent of something burning off ahead of us," he said. "Good bet that's the Western Watchtower."

Irileth nodded. Within a few minutes, the warriors reached the burning wreck of the Western Watchtower. "Dragon's been here, alright," Irileth noted darkly. "Spread out, and search for survivors."

Holondil made his way toward the tower, and a guard ran out to greet him. The man was burned, and he warned, "You need to get away at once. That thing came back and picked off Fjorti and Byorn just now." There was a loud roar in the distance, and the guard ducked back inside the tower, yelling, "Here it comes!"

Holondil growled. "Mirmulnir," he whispered. The dragon was an old enemy of him, having tried to slay him more than once in the past.

" _Yol Toor SHuuuUUUUUUuuuuuullll!"_ The dragon shouted, fire shooting out from its mouth.

"Kill him!" A Guard shouted. A volley of arrows shot upward to greet the dragon, but the scaled beast flew into the air, dodging the projectiles.

"Hahahahahaha! I forgot the kind of sport mortals provide!" Mirmulnir shouted as he landed for another attack. This time, he bowled Irileth over. If the housecarl had been just a second slower, she would have been flattened by the massive claws. "Now, die, _joor_ ," Mirmulnir shouted as he charged up a Fire Breath shout.

"No," a voice said as its owner ran in and slashed Mirmulnir across the face. "You will not kill any more people, you bag of scales." To Irileth's surprise, it was Holondil, holding up a Ward with his hands.

Mirmulnir laughed loudly. "Do you really think you can fight he who once was your master?!" He said.

"I killed you once, and I will do it again!" Holondil fired back, canceling the Ward and slashing Mirmulnir across the face with the Iron Greatsword he had picked up from a dead Guard.

"How do you know this dragon?" Irileth asked, slashing at Mirmulnir with her Iron Sword.

"It's a very long story," Holondil replied. "Very complicated."

"You can tell me when we're not fighting the dragon," Irileth replied, and the two warriors charged forward, toward Mirmulnir. With a scoff, the dragon tried to fly into the sky, only for an arrow to cut him down by hitting him in the wrist joint on his wing. "For victory!" Irileth shouted as she charged forward.

A swipe from Mirmulnir's tail forced her back, but Holondil ducked under the attack and slashed at the underside of Mirmulnir's chin. "You will fall this day, dragon!" He shouted as he thrust upward, his sword piercing the dragon's skull. With a loud roar, Mirmulnir collapsed to the ground. "Now," he said as he removed and cleaned his greatsword, "let's be sure that he really _is_ dead."

The guards and Irileth began to approach the dragon's corpse, but suddenly, it began to glow. "Everyone back!" Irileth warned.

The dragon's flesh seemed to dissolve into golden light, leaving behind the scales and bones. Holondil gasped in shock as the light enveloped him and dissipated. "What… what just happened to me?" He asked.

"I don't believe it," one of the guards said. "You're … Dragonborn."

Holondil looked surprised. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"There are tales of how the Dragonborn was able to kill dragons and absorb their souls," the Guard explained.

Holondil's eyes widened, shocked at such a thing. _(I can't believe it… Dovahkiin? That's…that's impossible. I've done so much against the gods… Why would they reward me?)_ He wondered.

Irileth turned from the conversation she was having to see that Holondil's face looked even more pale than usual. "Are you alright?" She asked, a rare concerned tone in her voice.

Holondil didn't answer for a minute, his eyes blank and unfocused. "By the Nine…" He murmured as he collapsed…

 **To be continued…**


	4. Chapter 4: When You Date The Sky

**Hope you didn't mind that bit of cliffhanger there at the end of the last chapter. Now, here is the next chapter of Redemption.**

 **-Chapter 4: When You Date The Sky, She Never Forgets-**

Holondil groaned softly. He opened his eyes, and immediately jumped in surprise. The "ground" below him was clear, showing him a view of the ground below. It was mostly shrouded by yellowish-brown dust, and the ground below was a reddish color. "What the heck? This isn't Skyrim," he muttered.

"You are not entirely wrong," a familiar female voice said behind him. Holondil stiffened in surprise and turned around slowly, a shocked look on his face. "Nice to see you again, Holondil," a woman garbed in blue robes said.

" _Kynareth…"_ Holondil whispered. Suddenly, everything came back to him: villages burned, towns destroyed, warriors blasted off cliffs by a force, and worst of all: what he had done to HER. "I'm so sorry, Kynareth!" He blurted out, tears streaming from his eyes. "I'm sorry that I broke your heart the way I did! There was no excuse for my actions. All those villages destroyed… those defenseless people slaughtered… and trying to woo you just for a petty power grab…" He got down on one knee before the goddess of the sky. "Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you, and I will! I swear, by the Nine, I will!"

"Stand up," Kynareth said. Holondil stood, surprised. "I am not angry with you, elven warrior," the Aedra woman added. "I knew why you were attempting to woo me. I thought I could change you, turn you from becoming the dark, hateful Al-Drun-Dinok." Holondil winced at the mention of his old name, but Kynareth continued. "It was my fault. I should've tried harder, but that is in the past," she said with a sigh. "You know, the others were not certain that you had been in exile long enough. Julianos, Stendarr, Dibella, and Zenithar believed that you hadn't been in exile long enough." Holondil frowned, as did Kynareth. Neither liked Stendarr all that much. "Akatosh, Mara, Arkay, and Mara believed that you had suffered long enough. I sided with Akatosh," she said, much to the surprise of Holondil. "I forgave you long ago, Holondil. You did not break my heart," she explained. "If you do insist on doing a deed to earn forgiveness I am freely giving you, I expect you to do what you said to Akatosh while you were still a dragon."

Holondil nodded. "It shall be done, Kynareth," he said. "I will bring my former master down. I will admit, I am surprised at your forgiveness, but I accept it."

"Then why do you intend to fight Alduin?" Kynareth asked, curious.

"This world is not ready to be destroyed," Holondil replied. "The past still haunts me, and if I am to escape that, the World Eater… must… fall," he added, pausing on the last few words for emphasis.

Kynareth nodded. "Good," she said. "You see the land below you?" She asked. Holondil nodded. "This is Red Mountain, a place you will see soon, Dovahkiin," she said, waving goodbye.

Before Holondil could ask what she meant, the scene disappeared into a deep darkness. "…should have been awake already," a familiar Dark Elf voice muttered. "Holondil? Holondil, are you okay?" The voice asked again. Holondil opened his eyes, groaning softly. "Thank the Nine," the figure, Irileth, sighed. "I was getting worried."

"Why were you worried?" One of the men asked. "He's the Dragonborn."

 _(So_ that's _what Kynareth meant…)_ Holondil thought.

"I would spend less time wondering on mythology, if I were you," Irileth replied. "There's a dragon, and it's dead. That's all I need to know. You would be better off putting your faith in your swords than in myths," she added.

"She is right," Holondil said, silencing objection from the guards. "Swords can save your life, myths won't," he added sagely.

"You'd best head back to Dragonsreach," Irileth said. "The Jarl needs to know what happened here." Holondil nodded, and he ran toward Whiterun, not knowing that the future would shift in a way he never would have anticipated…

 **To be continued…**


	5. Chapter 5: I Find My Voice

**Concerning the previous chapter, I assume that the Aedra are capable to assume human forme when they wish, so Kynareth was in human forme when she spoke to her ex-lover. If you want to know far were they in their relationship, you'll have to PM me. What skin color was Kynareth? It's up to your imagination. Green, blue, Falmer white, pink with polka dots, it's all up to you.**

 **Also, this is the first chapter where Holondil reveals his true past to other people. How will they react?**

 **For the record, the dragon word for Dragonborn is Dovahkiin. How is Holondil the Dovahkiin? Better read to find out. Ready? Now, here is the next chapter of Redemption…**

 **-Chapter 5: I Find My Voice-**

Holondil was running toward Whiterun, his conversation with Kynareth on his mind. He hadn't expected for the goddess of the sky to forgive him, but regardless of what she'd said, he would've stayed true to his promise. Suddenly, as he passed a nearby farm, the sky seemed to shake, and four voices cried out in unison, " _DOH VAH KIIN!"_

Holondil stared at the sky. Somehow, it had felt like the Shout had been directed at him. "Great," he said to himself. "First I kill a dragon, I see my former lover, and now there are four Tongues who think I'm the Dragonborn." He quickly found the gates of Whiterun, and immediately made his way to Dragonsreach. As he walked through the market district, he heard a woman telling an Imperial soldier that she would have a hard time meeting the soldier's order for armor and weapons. He remembered where the woman worked, and he made his way to the palace. A few minutes later, he opened the great doors and walked in. "My Jarl," he said respectfully, "the Western Watchtower is in ruins. Almost all of the guards had been snapped up by the dragon."

"What news do you bring of the dragon?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"The winged horror lies dead," Holondil replied.

"Was there … anything else?" Jarl Balgruuf asked, slowly leaning forward.

Holondil wasn't sure what the Jarl meant, but replied, "When the dragon died, I absorbed … some kind of power from it. …The men called me Dragonborn."

Jarl Balgruuf nodded. "They are not the only ones," he said. "The Greybeards seem to think that as well."

"Who are the Greybeards?" Holondil asked.

"They are men experienced in the Way of the Voice," Jarl Balgruuf replied. "They live up on High Hrothgar, on the Throat of the World." Holondil managed to hold in his surprise at the mention of the mountain. "People go up there to meditate, away from the troubles of the world. To be invited to the monastery is a huge honor."

Proventus Avenicci interrupted with, "Excuse me, my Jarl, but are you certain that this individual is Dragonborn? Capable as he may be, I don't see any … sign of him being this … Dragonborn. What does this Nord nonsense have to do with our friend here?"

"One thing I have learned, Proventus," Holondil replied, "is that nonsense might have some truth to it sometimes. I do not know entirely what I am, but perhaps the Greybeards will be able to help me determine what I have become, and what I am to do from here."

"Indeed," the Jarl agreed, "but first, I must reward you for all you've done for me and my people. By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It is the highest honor in my power to grant. I also give an axe from my armory, to serve as a badge of office," he added, giving Holondil an Orcish War Axe. "I also assign Lydia to you, to serve as your Housecarl," Jarl Balgruuf said. "I'll also inform the guards of your new title. We wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now, do we?" He asked.

Holondil nodded. "Do you have a house available?" He asked.

"There is one," Proventus replied. "Considering all you've done for Whiterun, I don't think it would be too much to give it to you for a reduced price."

"How much?" Holondil asked.

"1,000 Gold," Proventus replied, "or some Dragon Bones. Farengar's been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to study some."

Holondil handed Proventus the broken-off end of a rib and some teeth, ten in total. "This was all I could carry," he said.

"That will be more than enough," Farengar replied, an undeniable gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"Well, then. Here's the key and deed to your new stead," Proventus said, handing Holondil a piece of paper and a key.

"You'd best get to High Hrothgar as soon as you can," Jarl Balgruuf said. "It would not be polite to keep the Greybeards waiting. Can I see your map?" He asked. Holondil put his map on the nearby table, and Jarl Balgruuf pointed to a small town across from Riverwood. "Your best bet is Ivarstead," he said. "There's a path leading straight up the mountain from there. It should take you about five days to get there."

Holondil nodded. "I'd best not make them wait," he said, bowing respectfully to Jarl Balgruuf. "I am honored to be Thane of Whiterun, my Jarl." He went and walked to the door, when a young, black-haired Nordic woman approached him. "You're Lydia, I assume?" He asked.

"That's my name," the woman replied. "The Jarl has assigned me as your Housecarl."

"What does that mean, exactly?" Holondil asked, curious.

"Since you are my Thane," Lydia replied, "it is my duty to protect you, and all you own, with my life."

"Let us hope it does not come to that," Holondil replied. "By the way, call me Holondil," he said.

"As you insist, Holondil," Lydia replied.

Holondil replied and walked out of Dragonsreach, Lydia close behind him. The Nord/elf wanted to check out his house before doing anything else. The house's name was Breezehome, and Holondil liked what he saw when he walked in the door. The kitchen was the first room he walked into, and it was well furnished, with herbs, spices, and various kinds of fresh, game hanging from the ceiling over a drying fire, which had gone out. "I like this," Holondil said, cutting down the rabbit from its hook. The house was small, but had two levels. There were also two bedrooms: one for him, and one for Lydia. Holondil didn't mind dwelling in a small house, at least when he wasn't adventuring. Holondil cooked the rabbit on a spit in the fireplace and ate it. It was tough because he had overcooked it, but still delicious. "Lydia, watch the house for me. There is something I wish to do before we travel to Ivarstead," the Nord/Elf said after he had finished the rabbit and disposed of the bones.

"Very well," Lydia replied professionally.

Holondil left the house and walked across the path. "I told you already, I'm gonna need more time to fill out this order. Why don't you ask Eorland Gray-Mane for help?" She asked.

"Ha! I'd sooner bend my knee to Ulfric Stormcloak," the Imperial soldier, a Nord, replied. "Besides, Eorland won't make steel armor for the Legion."

"Alright," the Imperial woman replied. "I'll do it, but don't expect me to miraculously get it done in one day."

The Imperial soldier walked away, and Holondil approached the Imperial woman, who had begun working on an Iron Sword. "Trouble?" He asked

"You could say that," the woman replied. "I've got a lot of steel weapons and armor to forge, and I might be a really good blacksmith, but I can't do all of that in a single day." She looked at Holondil and sized him up. "You look like you could be of use to me. Do you know how to make weapons and armor?" She asked.

"I only know how to make Iron and Steel weapons," Holondil replied. "I don't know how to make armor."

"That's easy," the woman said, handing Holondil a stone mold of what appeared to be the front of a chestplate. "Just pour some of the steel in there, and when it starts to harden, use a hammer to make sure it flattens out. The last thing a soldier needs is for his or her armor to be digging into their chest. My name's Adrienne," she added.

"Holondil," Holondil replied.

"Holondil, eh?" Adrienne asked, hammering out pieces of metal for Steel Boots. "Sounds like an Elf name."

"It is," Holondil replied, pouring some molten steel into the mold. "I'm part Elf on my father's side. No, he wasn't a High Elf."

Adrienne shrugged. "I figured as much. You don't have the skin color or height of that kind of elf," she said, "and you certainly don't have the attitude. Now, pick up the pace, Holondil," she added, sounding authoritative. "I'm not paying you to just stand there."

"Yes, ma'am," Holondil replied, pouring molten steel from the forge into the mold. Adrienne's tone reminded him vaguely of the tone Sabjorn used to use on him, but Adrienne's tone was more kind and friendly, as opposed to Sabjorn's belittling, insulting tone. As he worked on his first Chestplate, he thought, _(Now, why didn't I come to Whiterun sooner? Not only is this lady nicer than Sabjorn, making armor's a lot more enjoyable than making mead.)_

After the armor hardened, Holondil showed his first Chestplate to Adrienne, awaiting her approval. "It's dented on the front. You took it out of the mold too early. You need to let it rest," the Imperial blacksmith said after looking at the Chestplate for a brief moment. "Break it down, and throw it back into the smelter. Start over," Adrienne added. Holondil did as she said, and began working on another Chestplate. This time, he waited longer before removing the Chestplate from the mold, and he showed it to Adrienne. "Perfect," she said, "but it's not complete. Make the back to it, and use some of those Leather Strips on the workbench to make sure the owner can tie it in place." As Holondil grabbed the mold for the Chestplate's back, Adrienne added, "You can add a little signature if you want, something that you can point at and say, 'That's my mark. I made that armor'."

Holondil nodded, and within a few hours, he had made four Chestplates, each having the Imperial dragon logo with two swords crossed underneath it. By that time, it was noon. "Time to take a break," Adrienne said as she sat down on a nearby bench and began eating some bread. "Did you feel the way the sky trembled earlier?" She asked.

Holondil nodded. "The Greybeards were calling me," he replied. "They believe that I may be the Dragonborn."

Adrienne looked surprised, but shrugged her shoulders. "All that matters to me is that you're here to help me," she said. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't have time to deal with stories and myths."

Holondil chuckled softly. "That sounds like what Irileth said," he said.

Adrienne smiled. "I like her. She's smart, realistic, and she gets along reasonably well with my father, Proventus Avenicci," she replied.

Holondil nodded. "Why is your shop called 'Warmaiden's'?" He asked, trying to engage the smith in conversation.

"A nickname my father gave me when I was young," Adrienne replied. "I loved swords as a child, thus earning me the nickname Warmaiden's. I never was interested in joining the military, though. I prefer making swords to actually using them. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean," Holondil replied, "but I am more likely to be using those swords than making them."

"Well, smithing isn't for everyone," Adrienne replied as she finished off her bread. "Shall we get back to work?"

"Aye. We shall," Holondil replied, getting up from the bench. "What shall we make, now?"

"Let's switch places. You make the Swords, Greatswords, Battlehammers, and Maces," Adrienne replied. Holondil nodded, and began pouring the molten steel into the proper molds, making sure to have some Leather Strips nearby to serve as part of the grip of the weapons. Finding it easier than the armor, Holondil concentrated on his craft, not letting up until the Sun had almost set. "You've done enough for today," Adrienne said. "All I have to do now is sharpen some of these blades, polish some of the armor, and I'll have completed the order. Thank you, Holondil." She gave Holondil a set of Steel Armor, as well as 3,000 Gold. "I think you'll find that it'll serve you better than the Iron Armor you have on right now."

Holondil took the armor home. He quickly went to bed, but sleep remained out of his reach. _(Who am I, now?)_ He wondered. _(Am I an Imperial, or a Stormcloak? I may suspect that the Stormcloaks were the ones who planted the Black-Briar Mead in my sleeping quarters, but I have no proof. The Imperial General tried to execute me, but he holds greater authority than that Stormcloak man with the Thu'um. Plus, both an Imperial soldier and a Stormcloak soldier helped me fight against the vampires.)_ After what seemed like hours of thinking, Holondil was no closer to untying the knot that hid what was his new existence. His last thought before falling asleep was _(Maybe meeting with the Greybeards will help me figure things out…)_

Morning came too soon for the Nord/elf, who still felt tired as he stumbled into the kitchen, where Lydia was cooking up some clam stew. "What are we doing today, Holondil?" She asked.

Holondil unrolled his map on the table. "We'll start on our way to Ivarstead," he began, pointing at the location of the small town. "From there, we'll climb the Thousand Steps to the monastery of High Hrothgar, where the Greybeards are. They will help me learn how to use my Voice." He paused for a moment, and asked, "Lydia, do you think I am … Dragonborn?"

Lydia thought for a moment, and replied, "There's something different about you. I don't know if that means you're Dragonborn, but perhaps this journey will teach us something."

"Perhaps," Holondil replied. "That's what I'm hoping."

After spending an hour packing food, the two set out to the south, Holondil wearing his new Steel Armor. Within five days, Holondil and Lydia made it to Ivarstead. It was very similar to Riverwood: small, not overly populated, mostly a resting stop for those headed onward toward a goal. "Gonna make the climb this year, Klimmek?" Someone asked.

"No," the man named Klimmek replied. "My legs aren't what they used to be, and I've got a farm to maintain." The man looked over, and Holondil got a good look at him. The man was almost completely bald, and while it was clear that he was old, it was also clear that he was still a strong man who had his wits. "Are you headed up the Thousand Steps?" Klimmek asked.

"Yes, I am," Holondil replied.

Klimmek handed him a small sack. It was filled with dried and salted meats and fish, food that would keep for a long time. "If you could deliver this to High Hrothgar, I would greatly appreciate it," Klimmek said.

Holondil nodded, and he began walking up the dirt path leading to the Thousand Steps. "Anything I should look out for?" He asked, looking back.

"Just some wolves and the occasional troll," Klimmek replied. "You're more likely to see fellow pilgrims walking up the path, though."

With a nod, Holondil began walking up the trail, Lydia following him. "I hope that we do not have to face a troll," Lydia said.

"Agreed," Holondil replied. "I'm not exactly prepared to fight one of those beasts. I don't even know what their weakness is."

"I've heard that fire works especially well against them," Lydia replied. "Sadly, I don't know any Fire Spells."

Holondil nodded. "Do not worry," he said. "I have a couple Fire spells I can use, though I hope all we see are pilgrims." Lydia agreed. As the two made their way up the Thousand Steps, they encountered a couple packs of wolves. The wolves kept their distance, and Holondil let them be, though he didn't let his guard down. There were pilgrims on the trail as well, meditating at various stones inscribed with writing. "Greetings," Holondil said to one of the pilgrims, a woman wearing Fur Armor.

"Greetings, …elf?" The woman replied, slightly confused by Holondil's appearance.

Holondil shrugged it off mentally. "This is a rather nice day, isn't it?" He asked conversationally.

"Indeed, it is," the pilgrim replied. "Did you hear the thundering earlier?" She asked. "Strange things, when the Greybeards speak like that."

"I know," Holondil replied. "I have journeyed here from Whiterun to discover the meaning behind their words."

"I wish you good luck," the pilgrim replied. "Talos guide you."

"Talos guide you as well," Holondil replied.

Lydia had a thoughtful look on her face as she and her Thane left the pilgrim behind. "Holondil," she asked, "why did you tell her 'Talos guide you'? She looked like a Stormcloak."

"She is a pilgrim, same as us," Holondil replied with a shrug. "I have no sympathy for the Stormcloak cause, but I believe in Talos, and I also believe that this mountain is truly neutral territory, where sympathies matter not, lest they shatter the ancient peace."

Lydia nodded, confused by Holondil's answer. "Do you sympathize with the Imperials, then?" She asked.

"At the present time, I sympathize with no one," Holondil said with a tone of finality. Lydia took the hint and said nothing further. To their shared relief, the only Snow Troll they encountered was a large distance off the path, and it was consuming a deer, allowing the two warriors to move past unopposed. The monastery loomed before them, tall and impressive. "This appears to be the place," Holondil observed. He saw a small offering chest at the foot of the stairs, and he placed Klimmek's pack in the chest before proceeding up the steps, Lydia close behind him.

Despite being twice Holondil's height, the doors to High Hrothgar opened easily, allowing Holondil and Lydia to enter the monastery. As the two entered the ancient building, four men with greying beards and dark grey robes approached them. "So, the Dragonborn appears here, at the turning of the age," the one closest to them said. "Welcome, Dragonborn. Why have you come?"

"I wish to learn more about what it means to be the Dragonborn," Holondil replied. "I can prove it, too," he added.

"Show us," the speaker replied. "Don't worry about us. We can withstand it."

Holondil nodded, and Shouted _"Fus!"_

The four old men staggered backward a few steps, but didn't look any worse for wear. "Dragonborn," the speaker said with some awe, "it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar. My name is Master Arngeir, and I speak for the Greybeards. Might I ask for your name?"

"I am Holondil, Thane of Whiterun," Holondil replied, "and this young woman is Lydia, my housecarl." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "What does it mean to be Dragonborn?"

"It means that you are able to kill dragons and absorb their souls, and by doing so, learn how to use Shouts, which are spoken in the Dragon tongue," Master Arngeir replied. "Without training, you have already learned the first word of the Unrelenting Force Shout: _Fus_ , which means Force. Now," he added, moving aside so that another one of the Greybeards could approach, "Master Wulfgar will teach you the second word, _Ro_ , which means Balance."

" _Ro…"_ Master Wulfgar whispered, and the ground at Holondil's feet quaked slightly, and Holondil could see lettering in the Dragon Tongue appear in the stone. Suddenly, the word came into Holondil's head, although he had no knowledge on how to use it.

"Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his understanding of _Ro_ ," Master Arngeir explained. Before Holondil could say anything, a wave of energy emanated from Master Wulfgar's forme, flowing into Holondil and imbuing him with the understanding of _Ro_. "Now, strike the targets as they appear," Master Arngeir said as he and Master Wulfgar walked backward.

" _Fiik Lo Sah!"_ Master Wulfgar Shouted, and to Holondil's surprise, a spectral figure bearing the likeness of the Greybeards appeared.

Understanding that this was the target, Holondil Shouted _"Fus Ro Dah!"_ He recoiled backward, surprised by the third Word. He was not the only one. The four Greybeards and Lydia stood there, jaws open in surprise. "What is this?" Holondil whispered, looking at his hands as if the answer laid there. "I don't remember that word…"

"Or do you?" Master Arngeir asked, wondering what this meant. " _Who_ are you, Holondil? Who are you truly?"

Holondil sighed, finding he had no choice but to reveal his past to them. "It would appear that I owe you all an explanation," he said, frowning at the ancient memories of what once was. "I am not entirely what I said I am. I am part Nord, part Snow Elf, and my name was once Al-Drun-Dinok."

The Greybeards gaped in shock. "The Dragon Priest? Murderer of the Thousand Warriors? Molag's Bane?" Master Arngeir asked. "Paarthurnax has spoken of you before."

Holondil gaped in shock, but then nodded and smiled grimly at the mention of his former adversary. "I am not the man I once was," he said. "I require training if I am to overcome my former master and redeem myself. Kynareth saw something in me that made her believe that I could change, and I would not wish to disappoint her. I wish to be something different from the man I was, and in order to do that, I need training. Will you teach me, Masters?"

Master Arngeir looked unsure, but nodded, the action echoed by the other Greybeards. "You seem sincere about your desire to change yourself, to ensure you are successful in your quest," the Greybeard said. "We will not judge your past if Kynareth has deemed you worthy of being Dragonborn. Now, it is time you learn a new Shout. Follow me, and we shall go to the courtyard." He turned, and began walking further into the building, the other Greybeards following him. Holondil followed, Lydia following close behind. The small group exited through two large doors, finding themselves in a large, wide-open courtyard. Across the courtyard, there was a metal gate that seemed to be oddly placed. "Learning a Word of Power," Arngeir said to Holondil, "involves meditating on the meaning of the Word and coming to understand what it truly means. Well, it's that way for most people. For you, Dragonborn, learning is almost instantaneous because you have the soul of a Dragon, meaning that you gain new knowledge every time you kill a dragon and absorb its soul." He paused for a moment, and then continued, "Already, with minimal training, you've already completed mastered Unrelenting Force. Now, it is time that you learn a new Shout: Whirlwind Sprint."

Master Wulfgar walked up and whispered _"Wuld…"_ Just as with Master Wulfgar, the ground quaked slightly, and a word written in the Dragon Tongue appeared. As before, the Word of Power echoed within Holondil's mind, and Master Wulfgar gifted Holondil with his knowledge of ' _Wuld_ '.

With that, Master Borri turned to Master Einarth. "Bex!" He shouted, and the oddly placed gate opened. _"Wuld Nah Kest!"_ Master Borri Shouted, shooting forward at an incredible speed, the gate closing behind him. Holondil was surprised and impressed. He had fought a former Dragon Cultist who was able to combine that Shout with impressive sword skills to decimate an entire company of Cultists.

"Now, it is your turn," Master Arngeir said, stepping aside so Holondil had room.

"Bex!" Master Borri shouted, and the gate opened.

Holondil crouched low and shouted _"Wuld!"_ He felt himself being propelled forward by a strange force, and before he knew it, he heard the sound of the gate closing behind him.

He ran back to a surprised Master Arngeir. "Impressive," the awed Greybeard remarked. "I had heard of the impressive abilities of the Dragonborn, but to have seen it myself…" He shook his head in astonishment. "There is one more test left before we will officially welcome you as Dragonborn, one that will test your abilities as a Dragonborn. Go and retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his tomb in the ancient fane of Ustengrav, which is a short distance to the south of Solitude. Bring it back, and we will welcome you as the Dragonborn."

Holondil nodded, but wondered. "Are there no more Shouts you can teach me, Master?" He asked Master Arngeir.

"Careful," Master Arngeir cautioned. "Many Dragonborn before you have fallen to the pride brought on by gaining too much power too fast. While we can teach you no more, there ARE Word Walls scattered across Skyrim which you can learn Words of Power from."

Holondil nodded, knowing how power had corrupted him in the past. "I shall see you again someday soon, Master Arngeir," he said.

"Sky guard you," Master Arngeir replied, bending respectfully.

Holondil nodded, returning the bow, and began walking back to the monastery. "What do you think we will see when we go to Ustengrav?" Lydia asked.

"No doubt we will see more Draugr," Holondil replied. "I also have no doubt there will be tests there to determine that only someone who can use Shouts, or a Dragonborn, can enter." He paused, and sighed. "I am sorry, Lydia, for not telling you of my past."

The Nordic housecarl shrugged. "I wondered, but I knew you would reveal it when you were ready," she replied. "I've seen some pretty bad people in my day," she said, getting in Holondil's face when he tried to turn away from her, "but you don't look like a bad person, Holondil. You look like someone who's had some burdens placed on him that would crush anyone else."

Holondil nodded. "Some of those burdens," he admitted, "I've placed on my own shoulders. Now, I have the chance to lay those burdens down, to show the world I have changed, that I stand ready to defend it, as the Dragonborn…"

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Note:** **I apologize for not writing for so long. The lack of views and reviews has made it hard to update this fanfic. What's the point in writing if no one's going to look at it? Also, I have a poll open on my profile that could use some votes. I would really appreciate it if you, reader, were to cast a vote. Don't know the names? Just vote for a random person. It would be very much appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6: Alright, Who Stole My Horn!

**So, did you people like that last chapter? The first big reveal of the story: Holondil revealing to the Greybeards his former, more murderous, identity. The Greybeards were reluctant to teach Holondil the ways of the Voice because his Dragon Priest identity had become a byword, a "this guy was the worst of the worst" kind of thing. Still, when Holondil told them Kynareth had forgiven him, they saw no reason to deny him help in his attempt to regain his lost glory.**

 **Also, assume Holondil's starting to sound like War from Darksiders: grim, a growl to his voice. War was just angry at everything and everyone. Holondil's had his throat cut twice, and has survived. His voice hasn't recovered, and it likely never will.**

 **Also, you reader might have noticed the name change. This fanfic is now Redemption: The Beginning. This fanfic is meant to be part of a four-arc story. More details will be released as their appointed time draws near. Now, the continuation of my first Skyrim fanfic!**

 **-Chapter 6: Alright, Who Stole My Horn?! I Can't See Anything!-**

Holondil walked slowly down the mountain. Suddenly, he began feeling strange, like something was bubbling to the surface within his subconscious, and the pressure was growing. He didn't know what it was, specifically, that was causing these flashbacks, but he had a suspicion it had something to do with learning Shouts from the Greybeards. He had never had flashbacks before, but these flashbacks were less than pleasant. As the pressure grew, Holondil pulled off the path to meditate at one of the stone tablets positioned along the path. He frowned as the image began forming, so intense it eventually drowned the outside world…

 _Begin Flashback_

 _The two Snow Elf Mages' Ice Spikes clashed together, shattering midair as the younger of the two shot a quick Lightning spell at his opponent. "You are a fool to think that Auri-El will save you," the older Snow Elf shouted as he pulled out his Ancient Falmer Sword to fight while he waited for his Magicka to recharge._

" _ **I**_ _am the fool?" The younger figure asked, unsheathing his own Ancient Falmer sword, a long, white blade able to rip through most armor that existed at that time. "You have turned your back on him. Is it no wonder that he has abandoned you?"_

" _HE ABANDONED ME FIRST!" The older Elf shouted, his eyes glowing red. "He allowed me to become … this!"_

 _The younger elf scoffed. "You always were a fool, father," he said. "I can see that there is to be no peace between us. I will not tolerate your company any further. I will take my leave now," he added, sneaking some venom into the final phrases of the sentence as he sheathed his blade._

" _You know that someday, you will return, and when that day comes, I will kill you, just like I killed your mother," the older Elf said with a dark glee, punctuating the last sentence with a loud laugh that echoed around the cavern._

 _Angered by the mention of his mother in such a manner, the young Elf Shouted, "_ Yol Toor SHuuuUUUUUUuuuuuullll!" _A blast of crimson flames shot out of his mouth, partially igniting the older Snow Elf's armor and throwing him against the wall. By the time that he had regained his wits, the young Elf was long gone._

" _Soon, Holondil. Soon…" The older Elf growled._

 _End flashback_

Holondil opened his eyes, which were a fiery red for a moment before returning to their normal blue color, the Dragon Shout's words echoing in his ears for a few minutes. "Holondil, are you alright?" A voice asked, muffled by the words.

Holondil looked behind himself, and he saw Lydia standing there, looking concerned. "I am fine," he said as his hearing cleared, realizing that he was panting heavily. "These damned flashbacks are getting to me." He tried to stand up, but found that his legs felt weak for some reason.

"Here, let me help you," Lydia said, helping Holondil to his feet and draping his right arm over her shoulders.

The warrior sighed softly as they hobbled down the mountain. "I saw my father this time," he said. "We were … having a disagreement about something. Something about Auri-El."

"Who's Auri-El?" Lydia asked, wondering who Holondil might be talking about. "I've never heard of Auri-El, before."

"You know him as Akatosh," Holondil replied. "My people called Akatosh by another name, and they revered him. Somehow, my father came to think that he had been abandoned, and he attacked me. It was a hard fight, one that I am not keen to repeat."

"I can imagine," Lydia said, pausing as they came to a particularly treacherous spot in the terrain.

"I can walk on my own, now," Holondil assured her.

Lydia shrugged her shoulders, allowing Holondil to remove his arm from where it had been. "You seem like the type who cares about people," the Nord woman noted.

Holondil nodded. "I have a feeling he's right, though," he replied, earning a confused look from Lydia. "He told me that I would return to that place, and I have a feeling that he is right, just as I had a feeling that Kynareth herself would intervene in the final battle of the Dragon War." Holondil looked over at Lydia, and noting the interest on her face, he continued, pausing to sit on a nearby boulder. "Alduin had been banished somehow, I still know not how, and I was fighting an increasingly powerful army with an ever-disintegrating force. Were it not for my bloodthirsty reputation and iron control, they would have fled long before. We had just begun to push the Nord army back when suddenly, the sky itself seemed to open up. A massive gash appeared in the sky, revealing a massive vortex filled with stars, and fireballs rained down from it. Nothing could keep my soldiers from fleeing, and before I could flee, a fireball hit me square on the head. I remember nothing else," he said, hastily adding the final sentence as a sort of afterthought. Lydia wasn't convinced, getting the feeling that her Thane was hiding something from her, but based on what she already knew about him, she knew it was best to not inquire further about the incident. Holondil sighed, and standing up, he said, "None save the Divines are capable of such a feat on their own. The Daedric Lords require the use of assistants, typically mortal, to complete their goals."

Lydia nodded, and a thought came to her. "Do the Daedra cause people to act weirdly?" She asked.

Holondil raised a singed-off eyebrow. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well," Lydia explained, "one of Jarl Balgruuf's children had been acting strangely recently. He used to be this bright, happy boy, but I started seeing him sneak down to this door and … whispering to it. What's more, he was acting as if the door was talking back to him, saying things to it. I never heard anyone, but it's obvious someone's affecting this poor child. Who could it be, though?"

Holondil frowned, thinking about the Daedric Lords he knew. If the child was acting in a worrying way, it certainly couldn't be Azura or Meridia. The Lord of Dusk and Dawn could not corrupt a child in this way, nor could the Lord of Light. "Hmmm…" Holondil muttered as he continued thinking. It didn't sound like madness, so it couldn't be Sheogorath. "Has the boy shown interest in human remains, or in libraries?" He asked.

"Uhh… no," Lydia replied, thoroughly confused by the question. "He's displayed an interest in more prying pursuits, though. More than once, I caught him trying to sneak into the room where his father keeps documents about the occurrences of the war, and I could've sworn I saw him trying to peek on me when I went to bathe once."

Holondil's frown only deepened. "Any attempts to hurt the Jarl?" He asked. "Even a minor incident may be noteworthy in this case."

Lydia shook her head. "Not that I ever saw," she replied, still confused.

Holondil nodded. "I fear for the boy's life," he said darkly, confusing Lydia further. "There are only a couple Daedric Lords who could make someone change like that. It's certainly not Mehrunes Dagon, I know that much. If it were, then Jarl Balgruuf would be dead right now. No, it must be someone else…" He muttered, leaving the statement unfinished.

"Holondil," Lydia asked, concerned, "what's wrong with the boy? Is he possessed?"

"No," Holondil replied, shaking his head. "That can only happen to a few people. Anyone else would be burned up. We'd best get to Whiterun to be certain, though. If the child is even just talking to a minor Dremora, there could be serious trouble." The two warriors quickly made their way down High Hrothgar to Ivarstead, where a carriage had stopped. "Can you take us to Whiterun?" He asked.

"Sure," the driver replied. "Ten Gold Septims, please."

Holondil gave him twenty Septims to cover both himself and Lydia. "I will give you double if you can get us there in three days or less," he said.

The driver nodded, and snapped the reins, which started the horse walking along the road toward its destination. "What about the Horn?" Lydia asked.

"I think it will be cheaper to get a carriage to Whiterun, and then ride another to Solitude," Holondil replied. "That way, we'll be able to help the Jarl and then complete my quest. The Horn has waited for centuries, but the Jarl has not that luxury."

"Something up with Jarl Balgruuf?" The driver asked.

"There is," Holondil replied shortly, not wanting to discuss it further.

Catching on the tone, the driver nodded. "Well, best keep that a secret. The Jarl's got enough trouble as it is, being a Jarl. No need to add to it, I suppose."

Holondil nodded, remaining quiet for the rest of the day. As the carriage rolled slowly along the path, Lydia kept a vigilant eye out on the terrain, making sure no one attempted to attack her Thane. Holondil, meanwhile, was meditating on the Words of Power he had learned. At one point, he was meditating on the word Yol, meaning Fire. The Word was fire made into a physical forme. Thus, it was dangerous. Fire, after all, was something that would rampage if allowed, growing larger than could be contained. _(Who will my Shout burn? Who shall my Shout spare?)_ Holondil wondered. As he meditated on the Words, he had the sudden sense that something was wrong. He opened his eyes to see clouds all around him. He looked down to see the ground below him, the carriage barely a fleck of brown against the terrain. He knew immediately where he was, and who had brought him there. Looking up, he asked, "Why have you brought me here, Kynareth?"

"To warn you," the goddess of the sky replied, walking toward the elven warrior. "The Daedric Lords are stirring in Tamriel, and you are right in suspecting one of them is responsible for corrupting Jarl Balgruuf's son, Nelkir. The other gods don't know that I am meeting with you, but I felt I had to do something. I fear you are not yet strong enough to resist them, so I am here to grant you a gift." She closed her eyes, placed her hand on Holondil's forehead, and muttered some words in a language Holondil did not know. After a few minutes of muttering, she pulled her hand away from Holondil's forehead. "I have bestowed on you the ability to sense if someone has interacted with the Daedra, and with this weapon," she added, materializing a sword from a nearby cloud, "you will be able to purge their foul influence from this world."

Holondil nodded, regarding the blade. It was long and white, having a slight curve at the end of the blade. The blade was inscribed with golden runes, ones that Holondil could not understand, though he could determine that they were Aedric in origin. "I have known Daedra who were far from foul," he said, frowning at the sky goddess as he sheathed the blade in the scabbard provided. "Unless I am mistaken, Meridia was of great assistance to you in your fight against me."

"That does not excuse her from the fact that she is a Daedric Lord," Kynareth rebutted, "cut from the same cloth as the likes of Molag Bal and Mephala."

Holondil frowned. "You of all people should know better that none are impossible to redeem," he rebutted with a growl to his voice. "After all, was it not said by Stendarr that I was cut from a darker cloth than Molag Bal himself, and was it not you who argued for my return from exile?"

Kynareth frowned, having no reply. "Just don't get seduced by the darkness like Nelkir was," she eventually said in a curt tone, waving her hand. The sky view vanished, replaced by a darkness. Holondil blinked in confusion before realizing that the entire day had gone by while he'd been talking to Kynareth.

"Good. You're awake," the carriage driver said, noting Holondil's stirring. "I was getting worried, but your lady friend there wouldn't let me move you. She said something along the lines of 'my Thane is meditating right now. He must not be disturbed.' Is she your housecarl?" The driver asked after a few moments, sounding as though he did not entirely believe Lydia.

"She is, and I am a Thane," Holondil replied.

"Then why didn't you say so? I would've let you both ride for free," the driver replied, surprised at Holondil's words. He didn't expect an elf to be a Thane, but he couldn't judge. After all, not all Nords were good, and not all High Elves were bad.

"I would have refused," Holondil replied. "You need money in order to continue making a living, and twenty Septims is a small price to pay for ease of travel."

The driver nodded, and after finishing his cooked Rabbit, retired for the night. Lydia looked over at the driver, making sure he was asleep. "What happened on the wagon?" She asked. "There were a couple times where you were … glowing."

"I was meditating on Words of Power as I had been taught," Holondil began, "but then Kynareth decided she wanted to talk to me." Lowering his voice, he added, "the afflicted boy's name is Nelkir. Kynareth gave me the name, as well as the ability to determine if someone's interacted with Daedra in some manner, as well as a sword to destroy the artifacts of the likes of Molag Bal."

Lydia nodded. "Do you know why she gave you that ability?" She asked, her voice having a slight tone Holondil had only Kynareth use before.

"I do not know," Holondil admitted. "While I do not know them, she must have her reasons for showing me her favor." He frowned and then added, "The sooner we get to Whiterun, the better. For everyone."

 **-Meanwhile, in the Aedric Realm-**

"Fellow Divines," Akatosh began, "the situation in Tamriel has become increasingly grim."

"In what way?" Arkay asked. "The war has pushed many to believe in us that would not have done so otherwise."

"This conflict has shattered many hearts, many marriages, many loves," Mara said softly, tears coming to her eyes. "That is too high a price to pay for having large numbers of mortals calling on your name."

"I agree," the youngest of the Nine, Talos, said. "I would rather be an ordinary man in Sovngarde than be what they have made me: a source of division, of conflict, a weapon to be wielded in combat," he added, spitting out the last part as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "I am NOT the God of Division!"

"Why have we not done anything about it, then?" Stendarr asked.

"I already have," Kynareth replied, and everyone turned to look at her. "I have granted a chosen warrior the ability to sense who has been with the Daedric Lords, and I have also instilled in him the ability to wield a weapon to destroy their foul artifacts."

"Let me guess – Is it the warrior who once shared your bed?" Stendarr asked, glaring at Kynareth, who glared back. The matter of bringing Holondil back from exile was something that the two gods had bitterly contested. This was hardly the first time that Stendarr had made such a charge.

Nearby, Dibella gave an irritated sigh. "If you would just shut up, Stendarr," she said, "I'd be able to tell you that I've talked with Mara, and Kynareth did not bring Holondil back just to invite him to bed her again."

"She is right," Mara added. "I can sense the love that people have for each other, and while Kynareth might still have some love for Holondil, it is not enough to cloud her judgement."

"That is enough!" Akatosh said, shutting off any further protest from Stendarr. "The point is that Holondil is our oldest, and possibly most powerful, agent within Tamriel. He is not without flaws," he added, ignoring Stendarr's muttering, "but he is our best hope at fighting the Daedric Lords. We cannot interact directly with Tamriel except for time of greatest need, and I pray Holondil prevents that need from coming into being." The Divines nodded, including Stendarr. The Aedric being had never approved of Holondil's return from exile, but he was in the minority, the others having accepted his return as a matter of course. After all, they had voted on it, and the majority had voted for Holondil's return.

 **-Meanwhile, the next day in Tamriel-**

Holondil gave the carriage driver 20 Gold Septims. "Thank you for getting us here so quickly," he said. After the driver accepted the Gold, Holondil and Lydia walked down the road to Dragonsreach, passing Warmaiden's, where Adrianne was working on an Iron Mace at the forge. "Good day to you," Holondil said to her as greeting.

"Hello," Adrianne replied, not looking up from her work.

Holondil nodded, understanding the short reply. Knowing not to interrupt the Imperial woman, he took his leave. The sun was just rising, and the town was waking up. The two warriors walked down the road, passing the Shrine of Talos, where the self-appointed Priest of Talos was still preaching. When Holondil approached, the Priest shouted, "Why have you come here, Elf?! Have you come to take me away for speaking the truth?! That Talos is a god?!"

"I have come to do nothing of the sort," Holondil replied calmly, and the Priest relaxed slightly. "I have come to talk to an old friend of mine." He looked up at the Shrine of Talos, a man with Nord features standing atop what appeared to be the tail of something dragonlike. "Ah, Talos," he said out loud. "Thank you for helping me."

The Priest could hardly believe his ears. "He helped you?" He asked.

"Of course," Holondil replied, pointing to his eyes. "I'd be a vampire if it were it not for him. No, I did not converse with him. It was a small, secret Shrine of his in a town I shall not name." He looked the Priest of Talos in the eye, and he said, "Talos be with you."

"A-and also with you," the Priest replied, looking as if Talos had appeared before him for a brief moment.

Holondil nodded, and he walked up the nearby steps to Dragonsreach, Lydia following close behind. The Nord/Elf opened the large doors and walked in to see the Jarl holding conference with Farengar. Lydia couldn't hear what they were saying, but with his sharper hearing, Holondil heard every word. "Excuse me," he said politely.

Jarl Balgruuf looked up, and he sighed in relief. "Just the man I wanted to see," he said. "I am glad to see you. I need your help again." He sighed, and said, "My son, Nelkir, has been acting strangely lately."

"I know," Holondil replied. "Lydia told me that a door somewhere in this palace had possibly affected him."

The Jarl looked surprised, and he nodded. "I can do nothing to get through to him," he admitted. "I just don't know what to do."

"Let me talk to the boy," Holondil suggested. "I will see what I can do to remedy this circumstance."

"Name your price," Jarl Balgruuf said, "and I will give it to you."

"It would be best for us to discuss price AFTER I help Nelkir," Holondil said, "not before. After all, it is best to pay the laborer after they have completed their work." He walked up the steps to the map he'd glimpsed last time he'd been in Dragonsreach. This time, there was a little boy looking at the map as if he were looking for an unmarked city he knew was there, but did not know its exact location. "Looking for something?" He asked casually.

The boy jumped and turned to face the warrior. "Oh. It's you," he said sounding less than enthused about seeing Holondil. "Do you want to hear a secret?" He asked, lowering his voice. Humoring the boy, Holondil nodded. He could sense that this boy had been conversing with a Daedric Lord. Of that, there was no doubt. He did not know who, though. His new-found power wouldn't allow that. "My father hates the Thalmor almost as much as Ulfric does. Perhaps even more," the boy said in a low tone.

"Everyone and their mother's mother hates the Thalmor," Holondil said, unfazed. "This is nothing new." Still, he wondered how he could use this to his advantage in the future.

"I know my father has had multiple wives," the boy alleged. "I know my mother is not the same as my sister's."

Holondil raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He asked, sounding intrigued. In his days as Al-Drun-Dinok, he would've wielded this bit of information as deftly as any weapon, but now, he could only wonder why the boy was telling him that. "Who has been telling you these things?" He asked.

"The dark lady. No, not Irileth. She's not smart enough for that," the boy replied. "Come on. I'll take you to the door." The boy grabbed onto Holondil's hand, and the warrior allowed himself to be pulled along. The two quickly made their way to the basement of Dragonsreach, where the boy stopped at a door that appeared to be carved from darker wood than the beams of the building above it. "Talk to the door, and tell her Nelkir sent you."

Holondil nodded, and the boy skittered away. Frowning, Holondil approached the door. "Nelkir sent me," he said to the air.

" _ **Excellent,"**_ a silken female voice resounded in Holondil's mind. _**"I was beginning to wonder when the boy would bring someone to wield my fine weapon. The boy is clever, and ever curious for new secrets, but he lacks … agency. You, on the other hand, I could do great things with. Set my weapon free, and I will make you the greatest ruler in the land. You will know the secrets of every man, woman, and child. Nothing shall be hidden from you. You will be mightier than even the gods themselves."**_

"How do I set your weapon free?" Holondil asked, eager to gain more power.

" _ **The boy knows who has the key to set me free. Talk to him, and you will be on your way to becoming the mightiest being to exist,"**_ the silken voice promised.

"Who must I thank for revealing all this to me?" Holondil asked.

The voice was silent for a moment, but then it replied, _**"I am Mephala, the Daedric Lord of sex, plots, and secrets sublime."**_

"Thank you, Lady Mephala," Holondil said before he walked up the stairs to where Nelkir was waiting, which was back at the map.

"She's talked to you, hasn't she?" Nelkir asked, deeply interested.

"She has revealed many things to me," Holondil replied smoothly, "including that you know who has the key to unlock the door."

"Tell me a new secret," Nelkir said, "and then I'll tell you who has the key."

"Fair enough," Holondil replied. "She told me that Ulfric Stormcloak was a friend of the Thalmor, and that they betrayed him at Helgen long ago. That's why he hates them, because they tried to execute him there twice." In reality, that was a lie, but even though he no longer had the aptitude for lying as his former forme, he could still come up with a good lie on the fly.

Nelkir nodded, pondering this information, believing Holondil's lie. "There are two copies of the key," he replied eventually. "My father holds one copy, and Farengar has the other copy. Do what you need to. No one will miss Farengar, I assure you."

"I will do what needs to be done," Holondil said, and he turned to go back to where Lydia was standing at the foot of the stair. "Let us go," he said softly.

"What's going on?" Lydia asked.

"I will explain more once we are home," Holondil replied evasively. Lydia nodded, wondering why her Thane was acting like this. After a few minutes, they had walked the short distance to Breezehome. As soon as they were through the door, Holondil closed it, as well as the window shutters. "I talked to the boy," he told Lydia. "He's been learning things from Mephala, the Daedric Lord of plots."

Lydia frowned. "And you've talked with her, I assume," she replied.

"Yes," Holondil admitted as he nodded. "I know what I need to do to end all this, but I have to wait until nightfall to accomplish my task." Lydia nodded, and began cooking some Rabbit Stew for her and Holondil to eat while they waited.

When night fell, Holondil made his way toward Dragonsreach, leaving a displeased Lydia behind to guard Dragonsreach. She understood the mission required tact and stealth, but she was still honor-bound to protect her Thane. Holondil had assured her that guarding his house would be just the same as protecting him. Lydia was not convinced, but knew she couldn't argue with the persuasive Dragonborn and win. The town was asleep and quiet, so Holondil made his journey to Dragonsreach with equal silence. A few minutes later, he was standing in the hallway of Dragonsreach. "My Jarl, I have come to tell you something important, and to ask you something of equal importance," he said.

"Then say it, so I may be off to bed," the tired Jarl said, holding back a yawn. It had been a long day, and he hadn't expected the Dragonborn at this hour.

Holondil drew closer to the Jarl, ignoring the threateningly slow unsheathing of a sword by Irileth. "I know why your boy has been acting so strangely lately," he whispered into the Jarl's ear. "He has been talking to someone powerful, one whose artifact has been hidden in the basement, behind a locked door."

"What do you want?" Balgruuf asked.

"I want the key, so that I may put an end to this nightmare," Holondil replied. "Let me worry about the how. I just need the key."

The Jarl thought about the proposition for a moment. "Very well," he consented, giving Holondil the key he sought. "If you succeed, I will pay you in the morning."

Holondil nodded, and he made his way to the basement where the locked door was. He opened it with the key he had been given, and saw a black, katana-like sword lying on the table within the small room. _**"An impressive blade it once was,"**_ Mephala's voice said, _**"but it has been degraded by lack of use."**_ As Holondil approached the blade, Mephala's voice added, _**"Take it, and with it, gain the power to rule the world itself."**_ In response, Holondil unsheathed the blade given to him by Kynareth. It appeared to be similar to the sword of Mephala, but white where it was black. _**"What are you doing?"**_ Mephala's voice asked, no longer sounding amused.

"Ending the power of your artifact, vile Daedra," Holondil said as he raised the sword.

"NO!" A voice shouted, and Holondil looked down to see Nelkir trying to pull him away from the sword. Holondil freed himself from Nelkir's grasp, and he brought his sword down swiftly, cleaving the Daedric artifact and the table in one stroke. There was an explosion that threw Holondil and Nelkir from the room, which had been ruined by the destruction of the sword, which was no more.

"What in the Nine?!" A voice shouted. Holondil could barely hear the words over what seemed like a multitude of voices screaming in his ears. They were wailing for vengeance upon those who had betrayed them: husbands, wives, siblings, and trusted allies. As his hearing returned and the voices faded, Holondil heard, "in the name of Talos happened here?!"

"I can explain," Holondil said, trying to buy extra time for his hearing to return.

He was pulled to his feet by someone, and he found himself looking into the eye of Jarl Balgruuf. "What happened?" He asked, bearing the appearance of a man who was not in the mood for games.

Holondil smiled. "I tricked a Daedric Lord," he said. The Jarl looked quite surprised, and Holondil explained, "I learned from an … anonymous source that your son Nelkir had somehow come into contact with a Daedric Lord. That source also gave me a sword able to kill Daedric Artifacts."

"Who was the Daedric Lord that was messing around with my son?!" Jarl Balgruuf asked, less than pleased at the news.

Holondil looked the Jarl dead in the eye. "Mephala," he said. "She offered me much power if I were to wield her sword. She would've persuaded me, too, were it not for her claim that I would be as powerful as the gods." His voice turned grim, and he added, "I've defied the gods too many times already. I dare not try my luck again. Now, about my reward…"

"Name it," the tired Jarl said.

"What I want," Holondil replied, "is a secret basement to be constructed in Breezehome, and for shrines for the NINE Divines to be placed there."

"Very well," Jarl Balgruuf said, walking off toward his bedroom. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "What of Nelkir? Will my boy recover?"

"He will recover," Holondil replied, not knowing how he knew this for certain. "I do not know how long it will take, but your boy will heal." With that, everyone took their leave for the night, Jarl Balgruuf wondering what Holondil had meant by 'defying the gods too many times'. He didn't seem like a bad person. Still, the Jarl couldn't be too sure. Holondil's power was a little disconcerting, and Balgruuf had a bad feeling Holondil would bring about the end of his Hold's neutrality in the War.

 **-The next morning-**

Holondil and Lydia left early the next morning, taking a cart to Solitude. The trip took six days. Holondil was immediately awestruck by the size of Solitude. "It's so big…" He said out loud.

"It is," Lydia replied, also awed by the size of the city. It was certainly larger than Whiterun, for certain. "I've heard the Jarl of this city is looking for a suitor," she lied, watching Holondil carefully for his response.

"I am not seeking a wife at this time," Holondil replied, not noticing. A shrewd and great warrior he was, but he was often just as oblivious when it came to women. "The world is in danger. We must depart for Ustengrav at once." Lydia agreed, and the two warriors quickly made their way southward. The first day yielded no surprises, but the second day was different. A Snow Bear attacked, as did a Frostbite Spider. Holondil fought the Bear and defeated it by running his sword through its skull, while Lydia used her Iron Sword to weaken the Spider so that a quick boot to the face, followed by a slice across the face, ended it. They made it to Ustengrav on the third day. Holondil cautiously approached the door and put his ear to it. He heard the sound of lightning zapping through the air, a muffled roar of fire, and the clang of weapons against armor. "We must be careful," he said to Lydia. "We have both mages and warriors to beware of."

Lydia nodded, and the two slowly opened the door to see what appeared to be Conjurors fighting against Bandits. Almost immediately, a fireball from a Conjuror's Flame Atronach arced toward them. The two split up and divided their targets. Lydia took on the Bandits. "Huh. Only three of you. Let's do this," she said, slicing at the first one.

Meanwhile, Holondil took on the two Conjurors. He knew that Shock spells would be most effective against mages, but he had no real way to fight effectively that way because he only knew Sparks. "Let's dance," he said, unsheathing his Ancient Nordic Battleax from Bleak Falls Barrow. He swung the great weapon, forcing the Conjurors back. The weapon was slower than he would've liked, but he hadn't put his full effort into the attack. He swung again, aiming to hit the lead Conjuror. He missed, but he turned and kept the strike going, cutting down the Flame Atronach in the process. He felt a blast of fire hit him, but he turned and slashed with the battleax, badly wounding the stronger of the Conjurors. A final horizontal sweep finished him and chopped the other mage in half, killing him instantly. Holondil stood there, panting slightly. After a few minutes, he cleaned his Ancient Nord Battleax blade on the Fur Armor of one of the Bandits. The enemies didn't yield very much Gold, only 50 overall, but Holondil discovered a Tome on one of the Conjurors. He opened it, but the book immediately vanished. The Nord/elf realized he had learned a new spell: Ice Spikes. It was hardly the spell he was hoping for, but he knew it would be devastating if used right. Hearing a low chanting, Holondil made his way down the tunnel into the Ustengrav Depths until he came to an open room. Sensing the chanting was coming from an area above the floor, he Shouted _"Wuld!"_ He sprang through the air and landed on the ledge near the wall, which he drew near to. It had a Word of Power in it, and as Holondil drew closer to it, he heard a word resounding in his head: " _Feim_ ", which meant "fade".

Sensing that there was more to do, Holondil made his way out of the chamber, descending further into the Ustengrav Depths. He was not disappointed. He saw three stones standing in the middle of the room. He stood next to one, and he noticed that it immediately turned red and at the end of the chamber, one of the doors moved. Holondil ran through the room, passing each of the three stones, but by the time he made it to the chamber's exit, the doors had gone back down. Frowning, Holondil strode back to where the stones were. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Lydia. "Holondil, perhaps you should use Whirlwind Sprint," she suggested.

Holondil nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. Wish I'd thought of it," he said out loud. He had a feeling it would work. After all, this was a trap in the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, the man who had founded the order of the Greybeards, so there was bound to be at least one Shout-related trap. He ran through the three stones, jumped into the air, and Shouted, _"Wuld!"_ He felt himself flying at high speed, fast enough to make it through before the doors slammed shut. Immediately, Holondil began searching for a lever. He saw a spot where there had once been a lever, but it had been corroded by time and water. Holondil had an idea. He got his Ancient Nordic Battleax out, placed the handle in the lever slot, and pulled. As luck would have it, or something other than luck, the improvised lever opened the door, allowing Lydia to walk through. Holondil tried to remove his Ancient Nordic Battleax, but it was stuck fast. "Damn it," Holondil muttered. He had enjoyed that Battleax, but it appeared that he had to leave it behind.

The two warriors made their way down the cavern tunnel, being sure to avoid the sleeping Draugr in their slots in the walls. At long last, the two made it into the chamber where Jurgen Windcaller was buried. Holondil drew near the coffin, noting that there was a stone hand protruding from the top, and it held a note. Written on the note was "Dragonborn, I need to speak with you. It's urgent. Go to Riverwood and rent the attic room in the Sleeping Giant Inn. I will speak with you there. Signed, a friend."

Holondil frowned. This was not what he expected. He sighed. "Looks like we're going to the Sleeping Giant Inn," he said. He had no intention of returning to the Greybeards emptyhanded. As the two quietly made their way out of the Depths, Holondil could not help but have a feeling that things were about to take a drastic turn. _(Soon…Soon…)_

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Note: Phew! Been a while since I uploaded a chapter. Sorry about that. Hard to type when there's not a lot of demand. Please tell your friends who like Elder Scrolls about this fanfic. Their views will be greatly appreciated.**

 **Well, looks like Holondil's life is changing in ways he could not have anticipated. A tense talk with his ex-lover, fighting the Daedra, and now he's got to meet a person at an inn. Shady? Probably. That, and more, will be in the next chapter of Redemption: The Beginning!**


	7. Chapter 7: Well, We Meet Again

**-Chapter 7: Well, Well. We Meet Again-**

The two warriors slowly made their way north, back to Solitude. Both were silent, the man having a lot on his mind. Holondil looked at the note again, as if he were trying to uncover some secret from within the ink. Something wasn't right here. They Greybeards had told him that the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller would be in Ustengrav, but it was absent, replaced by a note telling him to meet someone. "Who could have done this?" He asked out loud. Lydia shrugged. She didn't know, and neither did Holondil. He was the Dragonborn, and the Greybeards had said nothing of other Dragonborn existing at the same time as him. Something wasn't right, here. Soon, Holondil would know the answer. After three days' walking, Holondil and Lydia made their way to the gates of Solitude. Unlike the previous time, the doors were closed. "Looks like no tour of Solitude this time," Holondil noted. He walked to the stables, hired a carriage, and a week later, he and Lydia were in the Whiterun stables. It was the middle of the day. "Watch over the house for me," Holondil said as they disembarked.

"Are you certain that is wise, Holondil?" Lydia asked. "We don't know who gave you this note. They could be dangerous."

"I have my swords and my spells," Holondil said, "and I have my wits. I will be cautious in dealing with this stranger." Lydia looked like she wanted to argue further, but a glare from Holondil stopped her. "Also, if you see Adrianne, tell her Holondil wishes her well."

"I'll be sure to tell her," Lydia said shortly, looking less than happy.

Holondil wasn't sure why she replied like that, but he had other concerns on his mind. After he saw Lydia enter Whiterun, Holondil turned around and began the trek south. He kept walking until he was out of sight of Whiterun, and then he began running. Somehow, realizing he was the Dragonborn had allowed him to become much stronger. Taking advantage of this, Holondil began running at a surprising speed, considering he was wearing Iron Armor. He ran through the day, and shortly before it turned dark, he stopped under a tree. He lit a small fire a short distance away, not wishing to set the tree ablaze. Just as the sun had dipped below the horizon, Holondil heard some clanking as an armored person walked toward his small camp. Holondil unsheathed his Iron Sword and placed it on the ground beside him in case the person was hostile. As the person drew closer to the fire, Holondil realized that this person was an Orc, armed with both an Orcish Mace and a sword, garbed in Orcish Armor. Holondil was nervous, even though he didn't show it. Orcs were notoriously ferocious fighters. One had actually bested Al-Drun-Dinok in a swordfight. Hopefully, this wouldn't be like that time. "Hello," Holondil said in an attempt to be friendly.

"Do you have any food?" The Orc asked bluntly. As he drew closer, Holondil realized that this was an old male Orc, one who no doubt had seen, and won, many battles.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Holondil said, opening his pack. He took out an uncooked rabbit, speared it on a stick, and handed it to the Orc. The Orc took the stick and began to roast the rabbit over the fire. Something seemed off about the Orc. Holondil realized it was his Daedric Sense. "What are you doing out here?" He asked. "I did not know there was a Stronghold around here."

"There isn't," the old Orc said. "I am looking for a good death. Malacath offered me a vision of a glorious death. As you can see, that has not happened," he added sarcastically.

"Why do you wish to die?" Holondil asked, wondering why the Orc was saying this. "Surely you must have many years ahead of you."

"No. I am too old to become chief," the Orc said bluntly. "It wouldn't be right for me to take wives, and I do not wish to dishonor Malacath by simply laying down and dying. No! I will meet death on my terms."

Holondil pondered the words of the old Orc. His behavior indicated that the Orcs had not changed too much from Al-Drun-Dinok's time, valuing strength and resilience. Obviously, the Orc before him knew that his own strength and resilience was declining, and he wanted to get into his final battle while he could still call himself an Orc. "If you're so insistent on finding death," he said, getting the old Orc's attention, "I could grant you a good death."

The old Orc looked surprised. "Are you certain?" He asked. Holondil nodded, a very serious look on his face, and the Orc replied, "Very well, but no magic."

"You have my word," Holondil replied. "We fight tomorrow." He still did not understand completely why the Orc wanted to die, but if nothing else, the armor would better than what he had on at the time.

The next day, Holondil and the Orc woke up, waiting until the night had released its grip on them before they battled. Holondil unsheathed his Iron Sword and charged forward. The Orc pulled out an Orcish Mace and ran forward. He took a swipe at Holondil's knee, but the Nord/elf jumped backward, using the blade of the sword to block the strike. To his surprise, the Orc yanked backward. The sword went flying into the nearby tree. Quickly recovering from his surprise, Holondil grabbed at the Orcish Mace. He didn't have the time to retrieve the lost Sword, and he couldn't use magic. One thing he and Al-Drun-Dinok, his former alias, had in common was that they both kept their promises. The two grappled for control of the Mace, neither wasting their breath on words. None needed speaking. Eventually, the Orc regained control of the Mace and threw Holondil back with his strength. Holondil hit the tree hard, almost colliding with his Sword. Thinking fast, Holondil took advantage of the handle facing downward, and he jumped off the handle, flipping over the Orc's face. Taking advantage of the surprise, Holondil swiped the Orc's sword. To Holondil's surprise, it was black and red: a Daedric Sword. His ability didn't react, so Holondil knew it wasn't a Daedric Artifact. The Orc realized what had happened, and began trying to circle around Holondil. "Smart," he growled. "That blade was given to me by Malacath himself. He promised me only the one who would kill me would be able to wield it. You are tougher than I thought, Elf."

Holondil nodded, and charged in without saying another word. The Orc swung at his left shoulder, successfully hitting it. Holondil felt the numbing effect of the mace hitting his shoulder, but with his right hand, he hooked around with his sword and stabbed through the armpit area of the armor. The Daedric Sword stabbed through the weak area, piercing the Orc's heart. Before he could react, Holondil cut his head off. "Your wish has been granted," Holondil said, panting heavily from the battle. "May you find peace in the afterlife." Holondil removed the armor from the Orc and cremated his body. As he removed the Iron Chestplate, he marveled at how the armor held. The Orcish Mace hit a weak spot, yet it hadn't buckled to a great degree. Holondil removed the rest of his Iron Armor and donned the Orcish Armor. It was heavier than Holondil anticipated, but Holondil knew that it would protect against more than his former armor could. He decided to leave the Iron Sword where it was, knowing it would be of better use to other travelers, ones who did not have so urgent a mission as he did. Leaving the armor under a pile of leaves, he took the Orcish Mace as well as the Daedric Sword. Moving quickly, the Dragonborn made it to the town of Riverwood the next day, just as evening was beginning to set in. It didn't take long for him to find the Sleeping Giant Inn, where the note had instructed him to go. He entered, and found the room was empty except for Orgnar and the mysterious blonde woman. "I'd like to rent the attic room," Holondil said.

The woman appeared slightly confused for a moment. "We … don't have an attic room, but we do have a side room you can use for the night," she said. Holondil gave her 10 Gold and entered the room. It was small and sparse, but Holondil didn't care. He took his chestplate off and placed it next to the bed. He fell onto the bed and immediately fell asleep. The next morning, Holondil woke up to see someone standing in the doorway. It was the woman he had rented the side room from. "So, you're the one the Greybeards sent. They're nothing if not predictable," she said.

Holondil put two and two together quickly. "You're the one who wrote the note, didn't you?" He asked.

In response, the woman inclined her head at the doorway across the main room, indicating that she wanted Holondil to follow her. The Dragonborn complied, putting on his Orcish Chestplate and walking out the doorway. As he entered the room, the woman opened the closet in her room and pulled out a key. She used it on a lock Holondil could not see, and the back of the dresser moved to the side, revealing a hidden staircase. "Follow me," the woman said. Holondil walked cautiously, not trusting the woman. His Daedric Sense wasn't activating, so she hadn't consorted with any Daedra or Dremora as far as he could tell. The room he emerged in had a small table in it, with the walls arrayed with armor Holondil did not recognize. Interestingly, there was also an Alchemy Table in the room. "So, you're the Dragonborn," the woman said, sounding as if she didn't believe what she had just said.

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's note: The Old Orc Holondil fought is an actual NPC. He's not as strong as I made him, armor-wise, and the appearance is random, but the request is still the same: Wanting to die by battle and please Malacath. I figured that since he was old, he had battle experience that Holondil may have lacked. Also, Holondil's adventure is not over. Read and review, and y'all have a nice day.**


	8. Chapter 8: I Hate My Boss

**I am alive! I know it's been a long time since I updated this fanfic, so I'll be brief. Sorry for taking so long, but I've been running low on inspiration for a long time, but a Skyrim tune remix by Pascal Michael Stiefel has filled me with Determination. Thus, here's the latest in the adventure of Holondil!**

 **Also, there's going to be a lot of Dragon words being thrown around. The translations will be in (parentheses). I'm giving Holondil's Daedra-sensing ability a name: Daedra Sense. Like it? No? Please give your opinion when you review!**

 **-Chapter 8: I Hate My Boss. (Well, He's not my boss anymore)-**

"What gave it away?" Holondil asked, returning the sarcastic tone used by the blonde woman.

"Nothing," the woman replied, "except for that note you have in your hand. You went to Ustengrav, didn't you?" She asked.

Holondil nodded. "Now, the Horn of Jurgen [pronounced Yuur-gehn] Windcaller, if you please," he said bluntly.

The woman nodded and put what appeared to be a stone ram's horn on the table. "Aren't you curious as to why I wished to meet you?" She asked. Receiving a nod, she replied, "My name is Delphine, and I'm one of the last of a group that used to be known for slaying dragons. Have you ever heard of the Blades?"

Holondil frowned. "I have," he said grimly. "Back when I was a … different man."

Delphine raised an eyebrow at the statement, but continued. "The Blades remember what the world hasn't: that the Dragonborn is the ultimate dragon-slayer. Can you? Can you slay a dragon and absorb its soul?"

Holondil nodded, but did not see any lessening of the suspicion in the woman's eyes. "I assume there's some way I can prove it to you," he said.

Delphine nodded. "Remember that Dragonstone that Farengar had you retrieve? That was me who needed that thing," she said. "It's a map of burial sites where the old Blades buried dragons they had slain. There's just one problem: they're empty. It's as if they just got up and left. Personally, I think it's the Thalmor. Who else would benefit from their return? No one but them."

Holondil frowned. "Something must be reanimating them," he said. "Do you have any idea as to where the next Dragon will magically rise from the dead with the help of little elves?" He asked sarcastically.

Delphine pointed at a spot on the map laying on the table. "I've noticed that the 'path' created by the empty tombs goes in a south-east direction. The next one is Kynesgrove, right here," she said, pointing at a small town just south of Windhelm, which was far to the northeast. "We can go together, or separate. Once we're there, we'll see if you really are the Dragonborn."

Holondil nodded. He had many questions, but if his hunch was correct, they had to go NOW. "I do not know who you Blades are," he said, "but I believe that it is best that we split up." After marking the spot on his own map, the half-elven warrior made his way to the north. As he walked, he was struck with the unpleasant thought that he would have to eventually confront the one who had endowed his with the power of a god, or so he'd thought at the time. Still, he knew that it had to happen. It was one of the many things he'd dwelt on during the millions of years that he had spent as the mighty Pokémon Rayquaza. As he journeyed, he heard some faint rustling to the right of the trail. Not picking anything up with his Daedra Sense, Holondil unsheathed his Daedric Sword. "I know you're there," he said in a warning tone.

"Put that weapon down at once!" A particularly snobbish male voice said. The bushes rustled some more, and three Thalmor agents, a Justiciar and two soldiers, walked out onto the trail. The Justiciar wore black robes trimmed with gold, while the soldiers wore gold-colored armor. "I said," the Justiciar said, "put your weapon down. If you do not, I will have my guards take care of you…" Holondil briefly considered fighting the Thalmor, but dropped his Daedric Sword on the ground. "Now, are you Holondil of the Reach?" The Justiciar asked.

"I am," Holondil said bluntly.

Ignoring the tone, the Justiciar made a sign, and the soldier on his right handed Holondil two letters. Without further discussion, the three Thalmor agents proceeded to walk in the direction Holondil had just come from. Curious, Holondil opened the first letter. It read as follows:

"Holondil,

It has come to my attention that you were almost executed in an unjust manner, despite having no known crimes to be convicted of. Please understand that the Aldmeri Dominion has no interest in pursuing phantom criminals. Thus, I am writing to inform you that you will not be pursued by Thalmor agents or Imperial Soldiers for your supposed crimes. In addition, I would like to add that the captain ordering your death be dealt with appropriately. Enclosed in the letter accompanying this is an invitation to a party that I am holding for the wealthy, powerful, and well-connected in Skyrim. I await the opportunity to properly meet you in person.

Sincerely,

Ambassador Elenwen."

The other letter read:

"Elenwen, First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion to the Kingdom of Skyrim

Requests the Pleasure of the Company of

Holondil

at a Reception on 28th of First Seed at the Ambassador's Residence.

Regrets Only. Formal Attire Requested."

Holondil frowned. He'd never been one for parties, but considering who had written the letters, he felt he had to attend the event, even though he had no idea where it was. Realizing that it was getting dark, he moved off the main road and took shelter in a ruined castle whose name no one alive knew. He heard a buzzing noise off to his right, but it wasn't bees. Holondil ducked behind a pillar and looked out to see two woman-like tree beasts walking along. Spriggans. Holondil could take them, but he could not afford any delays. Fortunately, either the Spriggans never noticed him or they simply did not care about him. Whatever the case, the night passed without incident, and the half-elf quickly made his way northward. It took him nearly a week, shortened by Holondil catching a carriage that was passing by that town on its way to Windhelm, but he finally made it to Kynesgrove. It was a relatively small town. Nothing overly remarkable about it, except for the dragon burial mound nearby. Suddenly, a woman ran toward him, shouting "Go away! There's a dragon nearby!"

"Where did it go?" Holondil asked, wondering if it was who he feared it to be.

"It went to the old burial ground just north of here! If you go up there to fight that big, black horror, you're crazy!" The woman shouted as she ran away from the village.

Holondil rolled his eyes and ran northward. He could see black wings peeking over the hillside. "Damn it," he muttered. There was no doubt about it. He could see a blonde woman in strange armor running alongside him, but he didn't care about her at that moment. The two of them ran over the hill to see some kind of energy coming up from the burial mound. There was a large black dragon hovering over the mound. "That's the dragon who attacked Helgen," he whispered.

Meanwhile, the dragon was hovering over the mound. "Sahloknir," he shouted, "ziil gro dovah ulse! (Sahloknir, I bind your Dragon spirit for eternity!) Slen Tiid Vo! (Flesh Time Undo!)"

The ground seemed to explode outwards as a skeletal dragon clawed its way out of the mound, scales covering the bones. Holondil hadn't actually seen the dragon before, but he'd heard of it. The reanimated one was named Sahloknir. "Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik? (Alduin, my lord! Has the time come to revive our ancient realm?)" Sahloknir asked.

"Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir (Yes, Sahloknir, my champion.)," Alduin replied. The ancient dragon looked over at the two warriors. He scoffed and said, "Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi. (So, you are the Dragonborn? I see none of the dragonkind in you.)"

Holondil stood proud in his Orcish armor. "Zu'u Dovahkiin! Dilon Fen Kos! (Dragonborn I am! Dead you will be!)" He shouted in the Dragon tongue.

Alduin simply laughed. "You may speak the Dragon tongue as well as you used to, but you will lose this fight, Dovahkiin," he growled. "Sahloknir, krii dar joorre!" He ordered as he flew away.

"Damn it," Holondil snarled. He didn't like the idea of letting Alduin run free, but there were more pressing matters at the present moment. Namely, the reanimated dragon flying toward them! Holondil rolled to the right, Delphine to the left, dodging the flying Sahloknir. "Come and face me, dovah!" Holondil shouted, unsheathing his Daedric sword. With a loud roar, Sahloknir dove back down toward Holondil, who slashed as he rolled, taking out the dragon's right eye. With a loud, pained roar, the dragon landed. Keeping to his now blind side, Delphine hacked and slashed at the dragon's flank with her sword. When Sahloknir turned to face Delphine, Holondil mirrored his move, waiting for the perfect moment. As soon as Sahloknir opened his mouth to Shout, Holondil darted in and drove his sword through the roof of the dragon's mouth, triggering an uncontrolled Fire Breath Shout that threatened to weld the Daedric Sword to his Orcish gauntlet. The force of the Shout also caused Sahloknir's head to explode with incredible force, one of his horns just barely missing Holondil's knee (author's note: It had to happen. It's a meme). As with Mirmulnir, Sahloknir's flesh dissolved into light, which flowed into Holondil, imbuing him with incredible knowledge. "So," Holondil said as he turned to Delphine, "are you not convinced?"

The mysterious blonde woman nodded, not speaking for a moment. "I believe I owe you some answers," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about the Blades," Holondil replied.

"Very well," Delphine said with a sigh. "The Blades were a group of Dragon hunters who knew what many have forgotten: that the Dragonborn is the perfect Dragonslayer. The Blades have always served the Dragonborn, unlike the Greybeards."

"What do you have against the Greybeards?" Holondil asked, curious.

"They're scared of power, of your power. If it were up to them, they would have you talking to the sky, or whatever it is they do," Delphine replied unhappily. "They have incredible power, and have done NOTHING with it. What have they done to anything concerning the Civil War? Nothing. What did they do when the Blades were smashed by the Thalmor during the Great War? Nothing! What did they do when my friends were hunted down one by one?! NOTHING!" She said, shouting at the end.

Holondil was entirely unfazed by the woman's outburst. "And what did your predecessors do when entire villages were slaughtered by the Dragon Priests?" He asked. "Your band, and it was too small to be more than a band back then, did nothing." The half-elf looked the Blade in the eye and said, "Heed my advice, Delphine. Power in excess, even if well-intentioned, is a dangerous thing. Perhaps the Blades are wiser than you think. Perhaps they would take out both Stormcloaks and Imperial Legionnaires in their attempt to personally intervene in the war."

For a while, there was nothing but the sound of the wind blowing across the terrain. "I admit… you've got a point," Delphine said reluctantly. "Damn it! We're blundering about in the dark here. We've got to get information from the Thalmor. If anything, they'll know something about this dragon thing. We'll need to get you into the Thalmor Embassy somehow." With a small smile, Holondil pulled out of a pocket the invitation to the party he'd received some time ago. Delphine looked over the letter and smiled. "This is perfect," she said. "The carriage that will take you there leaves from Solitude. Unfortunately, my contact has already gone there. Malborn, a wood elf. I don't know where he'll be, but it'll be pretty easy to figure it out. You'll have to leave all your weapons with me, though. Best do that in Riverwood. I've also got some clothes for you to wear, but I don't think they'll suffice for the event."

Holondil nodded. The two traveled to Riverwood in relative silence, moving quickly. After donning the ordinary clothes, armed with nothing but his spells, Holondil took the carriage from Whiterun to Solitude. There, he tried to look for a place to buy clothes, but had no luck. "You know," a High Elf woman whose name Holondil didn't know, "you could do with a better set of clothes than that. Stop at Radiant Raiment for better clothes," she said, pointing at a small store nearby. Holondil nodded a thank you and entered the shop. A few minutes later, Holondil walked out of Radiant Raiment dressed like he was going to a fine party, the only other item he had being the invitation to the party. It was easy enough to find the cart, and after showing the guard the invitation, the half-elf was on his way to the party, and on to another chapter in the strange tale that was his life…

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's note: I'm not entirely clear on the lore surrounding the earliest Dragonborn (after Miraak), or the founding of the Blades, so in this case, Holondil heard rumors of Dragon hunters, but before he could devote any energy or time to the search, the defeat of Alduin happened, and thus, he is ignorant of much of the details of the Blades. SPOILER ALERT:** **[SPOILER BLOCKED]** **Read and review!**


	9. Chapter 9: Party Like A High Elf

**Glad y'all liked the last chapter. I'm gonna try uploading the proceeding chapters more often than in the past. You don't have to wait multiple months for a chapter anymore! Woo! Also, there will be a lime in this chapter. Don't know what that is? You shall soon find out. Now, on to the chapter!**

 **-Chapter 9: Time To Party Like A High Elf-**

At midday, Holondil's cart arrived at the entrance to the Thalmor Embassy, and was promptly greeted by a rather loud human. "Looks like I'm not the only one a little late. And you arrived in a cart, too. I salute you, good sir!" The man said, walking toward the steps with Holondil. "My reason for being late is mostly due to losing my way to this gods-forsaken mountain. I like to arrive here a day early, so as not to miss out on any of the drinking," the man added.

Holondil nodded, keeping that little factoid in mind for later. A Thalmor guard approached the half-elf. "Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy. Your invitation, please," the guard said with a blunt but polite tone. Holondil produced his invitation, and the guard looked it over briefly. "Please go right inside, sir," the guard said politely.

Holondil walked past the guard to enter the embassy, not waiting up for the other man, who was being irritable toward the guard. Almost as soon as he walked in the door, Holondil saw Ambassador Elenwen walking toward him. She wore a festive version of the normal Thalmor robes. This variety had no hood, and had a cape with the emblem of the Aldmeri Dominion: a golden eagle with its wings raised, as if it were about to take off from the cape and fly. Like all Thalmor, her skin was an olive color, and her hair was a mix between straw yellow and blonde (Author's note: I know that's not what she may look like, but I'm not good with hair colors). She also wore black gloves that were edged in malachite green. She smiled as soon as she saw him, but it was not a friendly smile, nor was it a smile that threatened. It was a smile that made Holondil nervous, because he had no idea what it entailed. "Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy! I am so glad you could make it," the Ambassador said happily. "I do hope you have been well, lately."

"I wish I could say so," Holondil said, surprising Elenwen with his growling, gravelly tone. "I have been attacked by vampires, dragons, and grumpy, old orcs. If I were you, Ambassador, I'd rather take my chances with the dragons than the other two. Nothing's worse than a grumpy orc."

"Is that why your throat looks so bad?" The Ambassador asked, looking concerned as she walked over to some nearby couches, motioning for Holondil to follow her as she sat down on one.

"No, that was the vampires," Holondil said, sitting down on the one opposite Elenwen's. "Jumped me while I was running from Helgen. I was under the impression fighting black dragons with bound hands was hazardous to one's health," he added with a touch of sarcasm. "Thankfully, being the Thane of Whiterun is not so hazardous."

"How so?" Ambassador Elenwen asked, curious, and trying her hardest to hide her impatience. She had invited the half-elf to the Embassy to "congratulate" him for his recent promotion, and had hoped to get him alone in her quarters, but it was taking longer than she would've preferred. Being the Thalmor Ambassador, she was not used to waiting for what she wanted. At least, no longer than was reasonable.

Ignorant to the inner frustration, Holondil replied, "Jarl Balgruuf the Greater knows that I was almost executed in Helgen, but he hardly cares about why. As long as I do nothing to threaten his people or his Hold, I have nothing to fear from him. His primary care is the well-being and safety of his people, not the war." With a slight chuckle, the half-elf added, "If anything, the safety of his people is probably why the Jarl has refused to choose sides in the war. He does not want to risk attack from either side."

"His neutrality cannot last indefinitely," Ambassador Elenwen said with some barely-contained irritation. "Sooner or later, he will have to decide who he backs."

"We shall see," Holondil said calmly, though confused by the irritation he was beginning to see in the Ambassador's features. "We shall see."

Ambassador Elenwen nodded, acknowledging Holondil's statement. "I have further questions to ask of you," she said, motioning for Holondil to join her as she stood up, "but not here." Holondil stood up, suspecting some ulterior motives, but he had no ability to decline her request. As he walked through a doorway previously guarded by a Thalmor agent, he saw a male Wood Elf tending the bar. The bartender gave Holondil a wink, which Holondil recognized as a "you-and-I-share-a-secret" wink. Holondil soon found himself back outside as he followed the Ambassador to a building in the middle of the compound, identified by a nearby sign as Elenwen's Solar. There were two soldiers in Elven armour standing guard at the entrance, and they parted to allow Elenwen and her friend entrance. As they walked in, Holondil noted some stairs going down into what appeared to be a basement area, and he could've sworn he could hear screaming. The Ambassador led Holondil up some stairs and toward a lavish bedroom. As soon as Holondil entered the room, Elenwen produced a key from somewhere in her robes and promptly locked the door.

 **-Remember that Lime I told you about? Here it is! Please skip this section if you're below 18-**

Holondil was scared. "I thought you had questions for me," he said, sounding nervous. He missed the Daedric Sword he'd been forced to leave with Delphine.

"Oh, I have questions," the Ambassador said in a soft, seductive tone as she pulled her black gloves off and tossed them on the nearby bed. Her cape and robes soon joined them, revealing how thin and lithe her frame was. "Like what you see?" She asked, her hands moving to the hem of her shirt. Holondil didn't reply. How could he? He didn't know what to think. Nothing about the situation made sense to him, but as Elenwen quickly pulled her shirt off and tossed it carelessly on the bed, he realized something. She didn't have actual questions for him. She was trying to seduce him! This was only confirmed by Elenwen undoing the bra-like bindings and throwing them impatiently to the bed. The elven woman stood there somewhat shyly, baring her full, perky breasts. "L-like what you see?" She asked again, stuttering slightly. They were unblemished, with small, dark nipples that were already beginning to harden in anticipation.

For a moment, Holondil could only gape. "So, you had no actual questions for me," he said, still astonished by what he was seeing.

"Of course not," Elenwen said, feeling her confidence return as she walked toward Holondil, breasts jiggling slightly. "I know a good man when I see one, and you are certainly a good man." She shoved him onto the nearby bed, sat on his lap, and as she began to thrust her breasts in Holondil's face, she added in a lustful tone, "Do you know how many men would kill to be in your position right now, how many would pay obscene amounts to see me in this state? You are the luckiest-" There was a sharp knock on the door, interrupting the High Elven woman's sentence just before she could touch him. "Oh, for the love of the Eight, what is it?!" She asked, not bothering to disguise her irritation.

"I am terribly sorry, Ambassador," a male High Elven voice said on the other side of the door, "but the party is just about to begin."

Elenwen growled under her breath as she got off of Holondil and retrieved her bindings, wrapping up her breasts. "I'll be there in just a moment," she said, putting her shirt back on. "I'll be back later, Holondil," she said as she donned the caped robes. She paused to look herself over in the rather large mirror in her room, making sure that she was presentable, and not like she'd just been trying to seduce someone with her bare breasts. "We'll get to know each other even better then," she added with a seductive wink as she exited her quarters.

 **-The Lime has ended. It is safe for those below 18 to read the following portion of this chapter.-**

Holondil had no intention of staying and waiting for the seductive High Elf. He had a mission to complete, and he realized quickly that, ironically, Elenwen had given him great help by inviting him into her Solar. If there was anywhere that the Thalmor Ambassador would store sensitive information she didn't want others to see, it would be in her Solar, quite possibly within her own bedroom. Briefly thanking whatever divine was responsible for the timely interruption, he began his search. After only a few minutes of searching, Holondil found what he was looking for: a chest hidden below the head of the bed, with three official-looking manuscripts: one for Delphine, one for Esbern, and, curiously, one for Ulfric Stormcloak. Not caring about the Stormcloak papers, Holondil looked at the papers for Esbern. They read as follows:

"Status: Fugitive (Capture Only), Highest Priority, Emissary Level Approval

Description: Male, Nord, late 70s

Background: Esbern was one of the Blades loremasters prior to the First War Against the Empire. He was not a field agent, but is believed to have been behind some of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades during the pre-war years, including the Falinesti Incident and the breach of the Blue River Prison. His file had remained dormant for many years, an inexcusable error on the part of my predecessor (who has been called to Alinor for punishment and reeducation), in the erroneous belief that he was unlikely to pose a threat due to his advanced age and lack of field experience. A salutary reminder to all operational levels that no Blades agent should be considered low priority for any reason. All are to be found and justice exacted upon them.

Operational Notes: As we are still in the dark as to the cause and meaning of the return of the dragons, I have made capturing Esbern our top priority, as he is known to be one of the experts in the dragonlore of the Blades. Regrettably, we have yet to match their expertise on the subject of dragons, which was derived from their Akaviri origins and is still far superior to our own (which remains largely theoretical). The archives of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is believed to have been the primary repository of the oldest Blades lore, were largely destroyed during the siege, and although great effort has been made to reconstruct what was lost, it now appears that most of the records related to the dragons were either removed or destroyed prior to our attack. Thus, Esbern remains our best opportunity to learn how and why the dragons have returned. It cannot be ruled out that the Blades themselves are somehow connected to the dragons' return.

We have recently obtained solid information that Esbern is still alive and hiding somewhere in Riften. Interrogation of a possible eyewitness is on-going. We must proceed carefully to avoid Esbern becoming alerted to his danger. If he is indeed in Riften, he must not be given an opportunity to flee."

Holondil quickly put the papers back, taking time to take the 50 gold that had been hidden underneath the papers. He had what he'd been looking for, and there was little time to lose. He slowly made his way toward the door, which the irritated Ambassador had left unlocked. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could, making his way down the stairs. He had a feeling that he could make his way out of the ambassadorial compound that way, as long as he didn't run into any guards on the way.

 **-Meanwhile, in Aetherius-**

"I have to say, I did not expect that from you. I thought you hated him."

"I may have, but that is in the past. He is the one chosen to fight the World-Eater. I cannot afford to be choosy about my allies, and neither can the other Divines."

 **-Back in Tamriel-**

Holondil had been right. There was a torture facility, complete with cells, under Elenwen's Solar, and after a little bit of investigation, he found an exit that led into a cave that absolutely reeked of rotting flesh. In addition to this, Holondil found a prisoner in one of the cells. "I've told you already, I don't know anything else," the man groaned as he heard Holondil approach.

"Do I look like a High Elf to you?" Holondil asked, using a very poor imitation of the typical Thalmor accent.

The man looked up, and realized that whoever this guy was, he obviously wasn't with Elenwen. He had no tools for torture on his person or nearby. "Who are you?" He asked.

"I'm looking for someone," Holondil whispered, allowing his voice to revert to its normal timbre. "His name is Esbern. Tell me what you know, and I'll get you out of here."

"I don't know anything," the man protested, keeping his voice down. "I think there's an Esbern guy hiding out in Riften, but that's all I know. You've got to believe me!"

"I do believe you," Holondil said as he opened the cuffs, allowing the man to slump to the ground. "It's not much, but we had a deal. Now, come on. The quickest way out of here is the worst-smelling cave you'll ever find."

The man chuckled softly and replied, "It'll be much better than the whips they used to torment me." The two men went through the small opening into the wretched cave just as soon as a guard peered into the room. Seeing nothing amiss, the guard went back up the stairs, returning to her rounds. "I stand by my judgement," the man said to Holondil, even as the smell hit him. "This is not as bad as what they were doing to me."

Holondil nodded, and quickly motioned for the man to be quiet. He could hear some grunting and growling nearby. The half-elf poked his head around the bend in the cave to see a large chamber, a bridge of stone and ice going over a lower level. There was a frost troll on the lower level, which Holondil was not happy about. If he'd had even just his sword, he would be able to take the troll down with little effort, but he was unarmed, and he preferred his sword to magic. Motioning for the man to stay still, the half-elf edged toward the pit where the troll was, and when he was certain of his shot, he shot Flames from both hands, immolating the frost troll before it could attack. The beast taken care of, Holondil whispered, "Let's go."

The man came out of hiding and followed Holondil through the tunnel to the exit of the cave. Once the two were outside, the man said, "You didn't have to save me, but I'm glad you did. If you're ever in Riften and need anything from the Thieves' Guild, just mention you know me, Etienne."

Holondil nodded, and sprinted south to Solitude. From there, he grabbed a carriage to Whiterun. Because it was late, he went to his house, where Lydia was waiting. "Where have you been?!" Lydia asked sharply, sounding less like a Housecarl and more like an annoyed wife lecturing her husband.

"I would need a week to tell you," Holondil replied, still confused about Lydia's attitude. "Did anyone come asking for me while I was out?"

Lydia frowned. "No, but there are some Alik'r in town asking for some Redguard woman," she said. "They left yesterday, and I am glad for it. I don't hate Redguard people, but I don't trust these people."

Holondil nodded, and retired for the night. _(What is up with that woman?)_ He wondered about Lydia. He could understand battles, death, and Daedra, but he didn't understand women at all, possibly due to the lack of women present in his early life. The next day, Holondil rose before the sun, which had just begun to rise by the time he arrived in Riverwood. He entered the Sleeping Giant Inn and promptly went to the room with the entrance to the hidden room. He was not surprised to see Delphine standing behind the table, dressed in full armor. "The Thalmor know less about the Dragon problem than we do," the half-elf stated.

Delphine gave a rueful chuckle. "So, neither side understands the problem and blames the other for it," she said. "So, did you see anything else?"

Holondil nodded, his face flushing momentarily as his mind turned to the strip show the Thalmor Ambassador attempted to give him. "The Thalmor seem to think that there is an Esbern hiding in Riften," he replied.

"What?!" Delphine asked, shocked. "I thought the Thalmor had gotten him already. That crazy old man…"

"Why would the Thalmor want to capture Esbern?" Holondil asked, curious.

"Besides wanting to capture every Blade they can get their hands on?" Delphine asked sarcastically. "Esbern was one of the head loremasters in the Blades. If there's anyone who knows about the dragons, it's him." The middle-aged blonde paced back and forward, face drawn in thought. "Hmm… If I were Esbern, I'd hide in the Ratway. It's not going to be easy to get there. That area's controlled by the Thieves' Guild. It won't be easy to get in."

"Oh, I'm aware of the Guild problem, and I am working on a solution," Holondil replied calmly, earning a confused look from Delphine. "Let me worry about the specifics," he assured her, "but I will need my armor for that."

Delphine nodded toward a chest next to her. "Your armor and weapons are in that chest. I'll give you some privacy," she said, walking up the steps to the room. Holondil wasted no time in getting the fancy clothes off and putting his Orcish Armor back on. He hated the fancy clothes, and he now felt like he had an actual chance in a fight. Once he was fully dressed, the half-elf made his way to the room, where Delphine was waiting. "Once you find him, ask him where he was the 30th of Frostfall," she said. "He'll be reasonably paranoid, but if you tell him that, he'll know he can trust you." Holondil nodded and made his way back toward Whiterun, and to his destiny…

 **Terribly sorry it took me so long to make another chapter. I hope you didn't mind the lime.** ** **I'd like to thank ninja of fallen Sakura for giving me the idea to have Elenwen give Holondil a strip show.** I will not be putting any lemons in this fanfic. If there are any lemons to be had at all, they will be in their own fanfic, but that is unlikely. Read and review, please. It helps me figure out how to improve the fanfic.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Thalmor took my Annuad!

**How's it going, people? Did you like the lime in the last chapter? I hope you did, because it's the last lime you're going to see for a while, if at all. This is an action fanfic, not a romance fanfic, although there might be some romance woven into the story. Also, I have a poll up for the eventual sequel of this fanfic. I am beginning to see the end of this story, and I must prepare for what lies beyond. Now, onward in this strange tale known as Holondil's adventure!**

 **-Chapter 10: The Thalmor took my Annuad!-**

It was midday when Holondil made his way back to Whiterun. Recently, he had noticed that he was making the trip in less time than previous. He had no real idea as to why this was so. Perhaps realizing he was the Dragonborn had given him strength, or he was a vampire and didn't know it. Considering he wasn't feeling any discomfort from the sunlight, he could easily rule out vampirism. As soon as he arrived, Holondil headed straight for the stables, but the carriage was absent. Since he had no idea when the carriage driver would return, the Dragonborn decided to take an unconventional route and run there. After an hour of running, and passing a small village with no name, Holondil decided to slow down and enjoy the scenery. It was cold, but the trees were starting to bud. Soon, their leaves would come forth, heralding the beauty of spring. Such beauty had long since been lost on Holondil's birth people, but it was not lost on him. There was a certain … beauty to just walking along a well-worn path and admiring nature. Suddenly, a Khajiit wearing red-and-black robes ran up. "Alright. Hand over your valuables, or I gut you like a fish," the cat-like being snarled.

Holondil appeared unconcerned. "The trees are quiet this time of year," he said, continuing on his southeastern path. The Khajiit stood there for a moment, aghast. Was this softskin crazy, or was he ignoring him? Deciding he was being ignored, the Khajiit snarled and charged forward, only to be cleaved in two by Holondil's Daedric sword. Holondil frowned deeply, but the frown vanished as nature took hold once again, and despite the seriousness of his trip, Holondil felt at peace once again, as if Kynareth herself was walking alongside him. It was a sensation that made Holondil a little sad, as Kynareth had walked beside him on forested trails many times in the past, before he'd adopted the mantel of Al-Drun-Dinok. It was just before sunset before Holondil made it to the gates of Riften, which were closed. "I have urgent business in this city," he said bluntly. "Open the gates at once."

The guard gave a bored shrug and replied, "First, you need to pay the visitor's tax."

"Why?" Holondil asked, his good mood vanishing once again.

"Why, for the privilege of visiting Riften," the guard replied obnoxiously.

Holondil snarled. "This is obviously a shakedown," he said, his hand twitching toward the Daedric Sword. Not wanting to risk a fight with someone wielding such a blade, the guard quickly unlocked the gate. Holondil entered, and he soon found a red-haired woman wearing Steel Plate armor. "Do you know where the market is?" He asked. He figured that if there was anywhere in Riften where he could find a member of the Thieves' Guild, the market was one of the best places to look. He received only a dark frown and a finger pointing in the direction of the market, which was all Holondil needed. He did not know why the red-haired woman was angry, but that was none of his concern. After a minute of walking, he soon found himself in an area populated by small stalls, from which merchants could sell their wares. All were abandoned but one, and this one was manned by a man wearing fine robes. "What do you sell?" Holondil asked.

"Depends. What are you looking to buy?" The smooth-talking, well-dressed man asked cryptically.

Holondil smiled inwardly. His intuition told him he found his man. "I'm looking for someone," he said, dropping his voice so no one else would hear. "He was sighted somewhere around here. Rather old-looking, paranoid, mutters about strange things. The kind that might stick out in this town. Do you know what I mean?"

The man shrugged. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know," he replied, "but some coin might help refresh my memory."

With a smile, Holondil replied with "What if I told you I helped a man by the name of Etienne escape a certain secure area? Would that help things?"

The well-dressed man was silent for a few minutes, surprise on his face. "Well, I'll be," he eventually said. "So, you're the man who did that." He nodded to himself for a brief moment, and as he pointed to a point further down the road, he added, "I know the man you're looking for. He's living in the Ratway. Pays good coin to not be disturbed. I figured he had a secret or two, but there are some secrets that money can't buy."

Holondil shrugged. "A pint of mead may loosen the tongue," he noted as he made his way to the area the man pointed out. The door was locked, but Holondil was able to pick it while only breaking 1 lockpick. He soon found himself in darkness as he made his way through the subterranean corridors of the Ratway. He could hear people talking in the distance. At that point, someone was complaining that the skooma wasn't any good. The warrior avoided them, knowing he couldn't afford to get distracted. A few minutes after that, Holondil found what he was looking for: a door with a slot at eye level. The slot was blocked. He knocked on the door, and the block slid back, revealing an old man. "Esbern?" He asked in a whisper.

"G-go away. I-I'm not E-Esbern!" The old man whispered back, slamming the latch shut.

Holondil paused for a moment. The man was nervous, almost sweating. There was no doubt about it. This was the man he'd come to find. He knocked on the door again, and when the latch opened, Holondil asked the strange, old man in a level voice, "Where were you on the 30th of Frostfall?"

The man paused for a moment and then said, "Hold on. I'll let you in." The latch closed, and there was the sound of multiple locks and other strange devices being unlocked. "This one always sticks…" The old man muttered before opening the door a crack. Holondil slipped through into the room, and the old man closed the door. "So, Delphine keeps up the fight, after all these years…" He muttered, and then sighed. "Yes, I'm Esbern. I tried to warn them, you know. I tried to tell them that it was only a matter of time before the World-Eater returned, but they never listened."

"Who?" Holondil asked, curious as to who this old man was talking about.

"The other Blades," Esbern said. "I told them we needed to figure out who it was, and soon, but they never listened to me. Now, it looks like Delphine and I are the only ones left. It's going to be hard for two people to find the Dragonborn on our own."

Holondil chuckled softly. "What if the Dragonborn was standing in front of you?" He asked, watching a look of surprise mixed with doubt spring up on his face. "Yes, I am the Dragonborn," he said. "I know I do not look menacing, but right now, I am the best chance you've got at defeating Alduin, and I cannot do that while we are in here."

"Agreed," Esbern said as he walked to the small bookcase he had. "I just have to pack a few things." He began putting various books and old scrolls into a bag, muttering things like "Now, where did I put my annotated Annuad?" and "Where did that Account of Madness go? Oh, there it is." After a few minutes, Esbern was finished with his packing. "Where is Delphine?" He asked.

"She is staying in Riverwood, working in the Sleeping Giant Inn," Holondil replied. Esbern nodded as he started to make his way through the Ratway. Suddenly, Holondil could hear something in the tunnel, and he quickly caught up with Esbern. "Follow me," he whispered. "I hear Thalmor." Esbern nodded, and Holondil led him by the hand through the darkness. Esbern could see nothing, but Holondil was able to see well enough to navigate through the darkness. Eventually, the two found their way out of the Ratway, and after they exited the city gates, they allowed themselves a sigh of relief. "We'd best go our separate ways," Holondil suggested. "I trust you know the way?"

"Know it? I could walk there right now if I had the leg strength for it," Esbern rebutted, "but I think I'll take the carriage, just to be safe."

"Good plan," Holondil replied. "You're bound to attract less attention if you're not walking next to a man wearing orcish armour," he added dryly. With a chuckle, Esbern took the nearby carriage to a city close to Riverwood. Meanwhile, Holondil began the slow walk back, knowing that soon, he would be faced with a terrible fight, one he'd fought before and lost. _(This time will be different,)_ he promised himself. "This time will be different," he said aloud to no one, knowing the Divines were listening. It had to be different, or else the world would die in a blaze of fury…

 **To be continued…**

 **Author's Note: Yes, I am alive. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff in real life, including acquiring a new job. It's going well, so please pray that it continues to do so. I'll try to update as soon as possible. For other exciting content, check out Nobel Six. He's a good friend of mine, and he writes a lot of good stuff, so check him out, and tell him Darkest Nightmare's Dread sent you. Until next time, I fade into shadow…**


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